


Erendriel

by roguendeavor



Series: The Tales of Truth [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elves, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Romanticism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, South Park: The Stick of Truth, Stick of Truth AU, War, they talk fancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguendeavor/pseuds/roguendeavor
Summary: In the past, magic coursed through the land and its inhabitants. As times changed and civilizations grew, the remnants of the arts lived in the soil of the kingdom of Erendriel, where the elves flourished. With the death of their lands, a bitter act from the Kingdom sparked a war between humans and elves. Far from the turmoil, a sheltered king longs for peace, and finds it with a knight.
Relationships: Ike Broflovski/Karen McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Tales of Truth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066253
Comments: 28
Kudos: 67





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a 2015 fanfic of mine. I never posted the original, but here's the better version. Yes, I know the canon name is Larnion, but that sounded too juvenile, so I changed it to Erendriel. Updates will typically be on Mondays. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading! uwu

_The Kingdom Chapter 1_

* * *

A vast and extending sky veiled the kingdom of Erendriel: a swift breeze roused all living things and pushed few clouds. The land inhabited by elves held an unnatural beauty: the untamed wildlife prospered, and the forest seeped with an enchanted richness; there was harmony found between all that lived in these lands, which remained unperturbed by any circumstances.

Peering above the Elven Forest was a palace, settled atop a cliff that lost the welcoming cover of trees the higher it reached. Built with warm adobe bricks, the towers reached up to collide with the sky: large windows were intricately placed at specific locations along the palace walls. At the far center of the palace lay the throne room, which held a large portion of the palace within its vaulted ceilings and extending hall. Along the sides of the hall were parallel windows, each withholding the same long pentagon shape and earth-toned image of a tree.

Present on the other side of the throne room’s large French doors were elves, soldiers or servants, each occupied with their duty to the crown. Within the warmly lit throne room, there was a gentle solitude. A long crimson rug outlined with gold cut a pathway along the marble floor, leading any who entered to a large pentagon wall, displaying an elegant nonagon stained-glass window. Beneath that—at the end of the crimson trail—stood a dais, retaining a single throne. Several years had passed since the deaths of the elven king and queen, which forced their only child to ascend to the throne.

The physical throne was made of tightly woven wooden straws that branched elegantly into the warm air; wine colored cushions laced with gold were placed along the seat and back. Sitting in a low slouching position was the young king, appearing overly relaxed with his left hand supporting his chin. His scarlet waves lay hardly tamed under his golden circlet, made to mimic the weaving of branches. Golden ear cuffs dressed his pointed ears, and his emerald eyes were heavily lidded, weighed down by sleep and boredom.

In the throne room, he was not completely alone, for guards stood watch at nearly every corner, yet none dared to interact or socialize with him. This was not due to an abuse of power, but a fear of being unworthy to socialize with their king. However, the king himself did not feel that he was above any of his people. The thought of having a vast amount of his people risking their lives in a war initiated by the humans of The Kingdom while he sat comfortably in his throne brought an agony to his mundane days.

For decades there had been a growing tension between The Kingdom and Erendriel. The elves had been content with their lands and prospered within it; the humans, however, had slowly worked their lands until it could no longer grow or hold any life; they became greedy, and wanted to expand their kingdom. Their king was the main cause for this corruption. He cared not for his subjects, but only of his power. It was not until several years prior that the tension had finally reached its peak and initiated the long-awaited war.

For the humans, it was the conquest for more and greater lands; for the elves, it was the defense and protection of their home.

Although the conflict between the two kingdoms grew by the day, the elven king saw no action, and was little more than a bystander. There were armies willing to risk their lives to ensure the safety of their king and prosperity of their lands for just a second longer, in hopes to allow them to see the end of the war.

 _If only there was something I could do. Great_ Sanctum _if only I could end this war peacefully._

With his troubled thoughts came a desperate exhale. A guard perched to the throne’s far left rose his brows as he eyed his king. There was worry and concern in his expression, words at the tip of his tongue, sounds in his throat, yet he did little more than glance at him.

Slowly did the sun descend from the sky, casting the land into a golden glow. Within the throne room, the light was reflected through the dozens of glass windows, causing a gentle dance of light. It was a beautiful sight, yet the king paid no attention to it. His mind remained elsewhere, occupied with possibilities and that which could not be. With a groan, he pushed himself off his throne and headed for the door.

The guards started slightly, surprised by the sudden movement by their king.

“Your majesty, where are you—”

“A king should be allowed to wander his own palace, should he not? ‘Tis none of your concern _where_ I am going, only that my safety is insured. Worry not, for I shall be out of harm’s way. Should anything occur, I trust you all to prevent a tragedy.”

As the king approached the French doors, the two guards perched near them pulled them open, an action that took a great amount of strength. Before he stepped out of the throne room, the king stopped.

“I thank you all for your services. You are dismissed, and are free to spend the rest of your day in leisure.”

* * *

Elves constantly filled the halls, yet ceased all movement and bowed to their king whenever he drew near. The young king expected such formalities, yet they remained strange to him. What was it that made him above them? Was it simply due to his birth? His father? Surely, there should be more that determines whether one is obligated to receive such treatment. He was not more worthy than any of the guards, or even a humble merchant from a city.

Out of routine, the king was able to walk through several halls and flights of stairs without paying much attention to his surroundings. He knew what his destination was, as did several of the elves within the palace, but that did not take from the intimacy of the small balcony at the top of one of the towers. As a child, he would spend evenings with his mother and father there, watching as the sun disappeared in the horizon, giving way to the reign of the moon. Now, as king, his visits there were sparse, and occurred whenever he needed to isolate himself from the world.

Gold caressed the previous blue of the sky, gentle yet prominent. Slowly as the sun lowered, the gold bled into passionate crimsons, the earlier blue changed into deeper and more intimate shades of purple. Life and beauty, as intertwined as they were, never ceased to amaze their spectators. With the passing of time came the strengthening of the opaque colors, bringing about the night in an overpowering darkness.

At this shift, many focused on sleep, tired from the events of the day. The king, however, could not think of such things. His mind was anxious, constantly on the war. It was ever prominent, yet had no direct affect on the palace he was standing in. He was unable to see the damage directly, yet that did not bring about a numbness to the subject. People were suffering, be them human or elf, they suffered, and they died. War was unjust, yet at times seemed like a necessity. Easily could the elves lay down their swords, yet that would bring about the annihilation of their lands and lives. Although greedy, the humans themselves had noble goals: to bring about a better life, even if it meant the destruction of another kingdom.

Stars decorated the night sky. The king looked up, attempting to clear his mind and focus on the beauty in the constellations. His father had shown him a few, telling him their stories, his mother others. As a child, small moments such as those were what brought him immense joy. Looking back at those memories brought him a melancholic euphoria. He was unsure if anything could cease the longing he felt in his chest, the fear in his heart.

“Oh, gentle giant of the sky, the troubles thou witnesses. How is it that thou continues to exist, even within thine isolation? Spectating everything as it all unfolds, yet unable to interact with any of it, unable to touch a single thing. Perhaps we are more alike than originally assumed. Gentle giant of the sky, what is it that will occur within this world?”

* * *

“My king, we have troubling news.” A large elf with deeply tanned skin, chocolate hair, and matching eyes bowed deeply.

“Chief Ike, what is this news you speak of?”

Ike did not step out of the bow. “It seems that the humans have begun to step foot into the Elven Forest. Our soldiers are to do their best to prevent them from stepping directly into our lands, but we estimate that the humans will make contact within a matter of months.”

The king inhaled deeply. “This is very troubling indeed. What actions are we to take from here?”

Ike raised his chin slightly to gaze up at his king. “I suggest we strengthen our defenses, hold them off for as long as possible, and evacuate the villages near the border.”

A pause, and then, “See to it that no humans enter our lands, and keep the causalities as low as possible. I do not wish to soil our lands with the blood of war.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Another pause. “There is another—”

“Stand, Ike. ‘Tis quite difficult to hold a conversation with one facing the ground.”

Reluctantly the larger elf stood, “There is another piece of information I wish to share with your majesty.”

“Oh? On with it, then; we do not have the entirety of the day.” The king found his statement ironic. He had a lot of time to spare, and was enjoying this small interaction with the chief guard of the palace.

“With the growing threat of the humans entering our kingdom comes the potential threat of a direct attack on your majesty. There has already been a—”

“Enough. I understand what you are saying. I do not need a reminder of those events. Is that all, Ike?”

“No, my king. Sincerest apologies for the recollection of those events, for that was not my intention. All other elves and I only wish for you majesty’s protection and safety. The generals and I have decided to appoint a personal guard to stay at your majesty’s side. We wish for the best warrior to take up that mantle, and thus planned a tournament to find who is worthy.”

“Is any of this necessary, Ike? It seems as if you are all overexaggerating. No harm is to befall me, so long as I remain within the palace. I trust you all with my life.”

“And your life is what we wish to protect. Please, my king, allow us to do whatever possible to ensure your safety.” Ike was bowing deeply once more.

“If that’s the case, then why not see to it personally that I am in not in any harm. Why not take me with you?”

“Your majesty, my king, we have other responsibilities—”

“Such as being in the front lines. I wish to be a part of this war: hundreds of innocent lives are being lost, while I sit here on my throne. Is this crown simply for appearances? Does it hold no true power within our kingdom?”

“Of course it holds power, yet we cannot risk your life in a skirmish against—”

“A _skirmish_? _Our_ people, _thousands_ of _innocent_ people are risking their lives, _dying_ in order to protect our lands and their brethren, and you have the au _dacity_ to call it a skirmish when the fate of our entire kingdom is at stake?”

Ike lowered his gaze, his deep bow slacking. “Apologies, my king, I misspoke. Forgive me for my insolence, but we cannot allow you to be any closer to the war than you already are. I beg you, remain in the palace, and allow us to appoint a personal guard to be at your side.”

The king pressed his lips tightly together, and took a moment to reply, “Do what you will, but do not expect me to partake in such events.”

* * *

True to his word, the king did not attend the tournament.

Messages had been sent to all villages, stating that a tournament was to occur within the capital of Evahyl; the winner was to be deemed the protector of their beloved king. Naturally, thousands of elves from across the kingdom made their way to the capital: merchants, sons and daughters, guards, soldiers, and any who were able to hold a sword. The tournament lasted weeks, dozens of battles occurring within a single day. The tension was high, adrenaline pumping through the veins of Erendriel. Every elf longed for the honor of being at the king’s side, his protector, yet many failed and were unworthy.

The final day of the tournament approached, and the skies were hidden behind a thin blanket of clouds. The kingdom of Erendriel held its breath, a silent tension grasped the capital as the determining battle unfolded itself. The clash of swords echoed through the anxious air, a burning determination driving the two fighters to keep fighting until one of them was victorious. A parry, then a swing; a dodge, yet another slashing of empty space.

“Thine skill with the sword is great. I acknowledge thee as a formidable opponent.”

“Quit talking and fight!”

“My, my, such anger, which is what will be thine ultimate downfall.”

Swiftly the fighter turned on his heels, shifting his weight and maneuvering himself to a position below his opponent, then behind. Not expecting such a movement, the second fighter hesitated and blindly swung her sword.

“Behind you.” Came a whisper, them the kicking of his opponent’s legs, knocking her onto the paved grounds. Before she hit the ground, the fighter spun on his heels, bringing down his own weight and pinning his opponent’s arms, sword pointed and aiming to her neck. Easily could the kneeling fighter have driven the sword down, or dropped it, and allowed gravity to do its work, yet he simply stared down into the eyes of his opponent.

“It appears that I won, my humble adversary.” He placed the sword gently on the ground, with the softest clink, and stood, offering his hand to the other.

“I thank you for the battle, and wish you the best in your endeavors.”

The spectating crowds exploded in a roar of cheers due to the intense battle. A few guards that were supervising the tournament made their way to the small arena. The fighter on the ground took the hand offered to her.

“Please, I beg you, protect the king at all costs.”

The victor nodded. “The hope for such an honor was the only thing that drove me forward.”

Pulling her up into a standing position, the two fighters patted themselves on each other’s backs, wished each other the best, and said their farewells. The victor was then taken by the guards, and lead into a carriage. Within a matter of minutes, the carriage was on its way to the castle; the victor was to meet with the king that he so desperately wished to protect.


	2. Chapter 2

As the morning trailed into the afternoon, the skies had pushed through the clouds, revealing a deep azure color. The young king sat as his throne, counting the seconds as they passed by; the guards stood attentively, doing whatever possible to remain on full alert. As with most citizens in Erendriel, the guards perched within the throne room also wanted the honor of protecting their king: they had wanted to join the tournament, to be able to be at the king’s side always. However, they were not allowed to move from their posts in the throne room. The guards were forced to be content with protecting their king at a distance.

The young king blew harshly at a strand of hair covering his eyes: the strand flew upwards, and gracefully landed atop of his head. _What is it that these guards are thinking? Do they dread the days as I do? Surely, they could not find this obligation amusing. Yet, they stay in these exact positions, and do not complain. How admirable of them._ The faintest of smiles placed itself at the king’s lips.

A loud groaning was heard as the doors opened, two guards on the interior rushing to assist those pushing the heavy doors. With a powerful stride, Ike entered the throne room, bowing at the foot of the dais.

“My king, I wish your day is well. I come with news: after several long and difficult weeks, the tournament has finally come to an end.”

The king raised a brow, hands stiff at the arm rests of the throne. “Tournament?”

Ike glanced up. “Yes, the tournament, my king. Do you not recall my mentioning of it? It was meant to find the best warrior and give them the honor of being your personal guard.”

The king’s muscles relaxed. “Such events have fled my mind. Since you claim the tournament has ended, I assume someone has been chosen. Very well, then; bring in the supposed champion.”

Ike lowered back into his bow before exiting the throne room.

The doors from the throne room had remained opened for a long time. The king sat nonchalantly while the guards at his sides held their breath, anxious to meet the one that took the position they had wanted. A faint clacking was heard, slowly breaking the silence, growing louder as the footsteps drew closer. Tension filled the air as the unknown champion made his way into the throne room.

The person that entered was not what the guards had expected.

They had expected a strong, well-built elf that has been through years of experience, countless of battles, and with scars to validate his skill. Instead, they were faced with someone young, entering his prime. He, like they expected, was tall and well-built, but his gently tanned skin held an innocence amplified by his sapphire eyes, yet did not contrast with his ebony hair. He wore simple clothing, evident of his humble life, iron cuffs covering his ears, and carried a sword that needed polishing and sharpening. He stopped in the same place as Ike, and bowed, one knee down, the other holding up his arm as he faced the ground.

“My king,” his voice rang powerfully sweet. “I have fought in dozens of battles, and traveled a great distance, all in hopes of having the honor of protecting you. I pledge myself to you, to be your humble servant and protector. I know not if I am worthy, yet I shall remain by your side, ready and willing to do all that you ask, and would sacrifice anything to ensure your safety.”

“Oh? You? I must say, you are not what I was expecting, and I am sure these… _talented_ and great guards were not expecting someone like you, either.”

“Forgive me for not fitting your standards, my king.”

“You need not apologize. We elves are not one to judge based on appearances. However, I do find myself wondering as to how someone like you was deemed the best in our kingdom. That being said, I wish to witness your ‘great’ skill. I challenge you to a dance with swords, my champion.”

He looked up, sapphire eyes wide with confusion. “M—my king, I am afraid I don’t understand.”

The young king smirked faintly. “If you claim to be so great with the sword, then why not duel with me? Should you defeat me, then the ‘honor’ of being by my side shall be yours—”

The guards simultaneously took a step forward, armor rattling as they did so.

The king raised a fragile hand, settling down the guards before continuing. “You forget: I am the king, and you winning some tournament does not grant you this position; I can easily deny you the right.”

His gaze shot sharply to the ground.

“No answer?” He leaned forward in the slightest, “Are you afraid of your king? Tell me, why is it that you wish to have this obligation? If you truly crave it, then one more fight would not be a burden. Are you willing to fight against me to be granted this right? What say thee?”

“My king, I long for the honor to protect you, not to harm you—”

“Bold of you to assume you will harm me.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he did so. “I would have to refuse.”

The king’s brows rose. “Refuse? That easily? I must say, you abandoned this opportunity as if it were nothing. Clearly, it did not mean as much to you as you claimed it did.”

He stood quickly, alerting the guards once more. The king pressed back into his throne, startled by the sudden movement.

“With utmost respect, your majesty, I was refusing your offer. I came here to protect you, and only that. I will not partake in such childish banter, and will never raise my sword against you, or the kingdom of Erendriel. I had said that I would do all that was asked of me, yet I now see that cannot be the case. Greatest apologies, my king, but I will have to deny you this request. Do with me what you will, but know where my heart stands.”

No one dared to move, or even breathe. No one, not a single soul had ever spoken that way to the king. The penalty for speaking against the king was imprisonment. Yet, was this warrior really speaking against the king? Upon denying a violent action, was he not protecting the king?

He closed his eyes once again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sincerest apologies, my king.” He lowered to the ground, bowing as low as possible, hands on the ground and face nearly touching it. “I beg for your forgiveness.”

A sharp inhale was audible, then a deep exhale. “Raise your head, for there is no need for that. I will admit, such actions were unacceptable, and I am the one at fault here. However, it seems that you have bested me in this conflict. Very well, then: I, sole ruler and king of Erendriel, grant you the right of being at my side.”

Quickly did he raise his head, “My king. I—I am at a loss of words.”

The light from the stained-glass windows reflected through the throne room, a few rays catching the king’s crown. He smiled softly. “Worry not, for the words shall came to you once we become properly acquainted with one another.” He looked up to the guards within the hall, “I thank you all with great sincerity. You are relived of your duties, and are free to do as you wish. I am to spend the rest of the day with—”

With a bashful expression, the king turned to the warrior. “Forgive me, but in the chaos, I have forgotten to ask you your name.” His face was flushed lightly.

He felt a tug on his heart strings, and a smile placed itself at his lips. “I am Stan, hailing from the Marshlands, my king.”

“I am to spend the rest of the day with Stan of the Marshlands. I sincerely doubt any trouble will occur, but should anything happen, you will be alerted. Thank you all once again.” 

* * *

“Please, tell me about yourself, Stan of the Marshlands. I am interested in hearing about your upbringings.” The king held a soft and intrigued smile.

Stan gave a half bow. “Of course, my king. I was born into a humble household, with a mother, father, and sister I hardly knew. As soon as she came of age, she left our home, and I have not heard from her since. My father was a working man, spending days in the woods, harvesting all he could find. My mother was kind, and understanding.

“We lived in no town, nor village, but in the outskirts, near a marsh. From my faint memory, I recall coming to Evahyl with my mother on more than a few occasions. Unfortunately, my parents experienced an untimely death. When the humans declared war, they were one of the first victims. Why was that the case? I know not. We were simple people, harming no one, yet felt the wrath of that bastard of a king.

“Apologies for my language, my king, but I hold a deep resentment to the pig that has found itself on the humans’ throne. I also apologize for any sorrow I may have caused you. I would never wish to bring you any sorrow.” A brief pause. “And so, I left my home, and came to Evahyl, the only place I knew I could prosper in.

“From a young age, I had dabbled with the sword. When in Evahyl, I found someone that was able to properly teach me to wield the blade, an elf by the name of Jerome; he also taught me in the culinary arts. He was an older elf, and recently succumbed to his old age.” Another pause, this one longer than the previous. “From there, I trained every day, fighting to get stronger.

“I had hoped to join the army, and fight to protect our kingdom, and yourself, my king. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being granted he honor of protecting you directly, my king. Forgive me, but I am still in a daze. With that, I conclude the telling of my upbringing. I thank you for listening to the entirety of it.”

He had found himself at a loss of words. He would have never imagined that someone could have experienced such loss; he did not know how the person before him was able to retell it without breaking down with intense emotions, or at least had his voice crack with it. Instead, he simply looked at the person standing before him.

“Forgive me, Stan of the Marshlands. You have no need to thank me. I should be the one thanking you for trusting me to say all of this. You have lived a hard life, and I cannot imagine what that must have been like. I thank you, Stan of the Marshlands, for telling me all of this, and for being here.”

Stan smiled sadly. “I see no need to thank me, my king. I simply did as you asked, which I will always do. However—” He looked away, bashful, and scratching the back of his neck. “I am in no place to request things of you, my king, so I shall offer a suggestion: addressing me by my name and title is… a tad bit awkward. Apologies, my king, but addressing me simply as Stan is more than enough.”

The king smiled. “Very well, Stan it shall be. In turn, I ask that you refrain from addressing me as ‘my king,’ and using it in every sentence, or any other title, for that matter.”

Stan was surprised, “I—my king—I am afraid I cannot do such a thing.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“You are my king, the great and wondrous king of this beautiful kingdom: you deserve the utmost respect, and must be treated with formality and honor.”

“Ah, yes, I have heard this all before. And, if I am being honest, referring to me as simply a title feels very impersonal: I am not fond of it. Also, I see no honor in ‘suggesting’ one thing, but being unable to comply to the same. Now, decide.”

Stan tapped his fingers against his thigh. “I—” he sighed. “If the king requests it, then I can do nothing but accept it. Please, tell me what you wish to call you as.”

“Dearest Stan, I have a name.”

“You wish me to call you Erendriel, my king?” It slipped, and he had said it without thinking.

The king’s eyes narrowed in the slightest. “That is my family name, as well as the name of the kingdom. Please, call me Kyle.”

“Forgive me, but, _Kyle?_ My king, I am afraid I do not understand. Is it not tradition for elven royalty to be given names in the ancient elven tongue? Kyle does not sound like one of those; it sounds too contemporary, almost—dare I say—human.”

Kyle took a moment to respond. “Yes, it is not a traditional name. It was what my late mother had wanted. She was partial to it, of all names. Evidently, no one refers to me as such, only ‘my king,’ ‘your majesty,’ or ‘King Erendriel.’ If you are to criticize my given name, I am to do the same: your name sounds awfully human, as well.”

Stan felt his breath hitch then looked away. “My parents were also partial to human names.”

“Very well, Stan.” He smiled, eyeing the iron cuffs covering the top portion of Stan’s ears.

Another smile. “Thank you, my king—er, Kyle. Forgive me, for this will take some time.”

Kyle laughed, the sound bright and clear, echoing through the throne room. “No need to apologize. Just hearing someone call me by that name—after all these years—brings me more than enough joy. Thank you, Stan.”

“I _will_ address you properly in the company of others, Kyle. Please do not think I will maintain this casual exchange then.”

“Of course. As will I. I have learned it is best to keep up appearances, and show others what they wish to see, especially during political and royal affairs.”

Stan swallowed harshly. It seemed as if Kyle put on a façade for others, and it seemed as if that mask constantly covered his face. Had he been wearing it this whole time? Was he wearing it now? He hoped not, for he wanted to know the person that wore the crown, not the crown itself.

* * *

Shortly after their introductions, Stan was escorted out of palace, and lead down the hill on horseback. He was not sure where he was being taken to, or what he was to do, but did not feel he had the authority to ask: he simply followed the elven guard, their face covered by a helmet. Their ride took several minutes, and lead them to a nearly hidden shack the forest, at the base of the hill. 

The guard got off their horse, stiffened, stood perpendicular to the front door, and looked straight ahead at nothing. “You are to be fitted for armor by our blacksmith, Petuski. Apologies, but one cannot have you to protect the king in your wears. You must be protected yourself if you expect to protect the king.” They did not move from their stance, but gestured to go around the shack.

Stan got off his horse. The smell of smoke heavy in the area.

Unlike the clean and pristine palace, the back of the shack was covered in soot and ash. Old and worn-down tables were carefully arranged, each holding its own set of tools or weapons, but all were made from some kind of metal. The forge had a fire burning, one that Stan assumed was hardly ever out.

He noticed a brunet elf at a far-off anvil. He studied the white-hot piece of metal before him, then began pounding it with a hammer, sparks flying with every impact. Stan watched as the blacksmith worked, experiencing the display for the first time. He was more than familiar with a sword—its shape and function—but proved ignorant to the manufacturing process: he could not even begin to imagine how one makes armor.

After some time, Petuski dropped the metal into a barrel of water, then turned to Stan. “Enjoy the show, new blood?”

“I—yes. That was my first time seeing anyone smith something. It was very intriguing, but I apologize if I caused any disturbances.”

Petuski chuckled as he wiped his hands with a cloth, “How very formal. The elves here only speak that way to his majesty. For the most part, the rest of us speak casually with one another. Feel free to cut loose. As you can tell, I don’t speak formally, but try when I gotta.”

Stan nodded firmly. “They sent me here for some armor.”

“Ah, yes. Here—” he walked closer to Stan, “Lemme get a look at ya.” With a stern look, he studied Stan. “Mhm, yeah. You’re a little shorter than most elves, and wider. I’ll have to forge your armor from scratch.”

“Sorry for giving you more work.”

“No, no. If it’s for the king’s safety, there is no such thing as too much work. The question now is what _kind_ of armor we’ll get ya. The soldiers and guards have plate armor. Not the prettiest, but does the job. We _could_ get you some plate armor, maybe make it outta bronze, or some other material the others don’t have. Yeah, and maybe out fancy little designs on it. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds fine, thank—”

“No! I got it! Plate armor, no matter how fancy, is way too bulky and clanky. If you’re to be with the king, we need _elegance_.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke. “I have a lot of leather somewhere around here. It won’t be as strong as the plate, but you’ll have the right look. I heard you’re a great fighter. It’ll be enough.”

* * *

Kyle was left alone in the throne room. He wasn’t pleased with having to stay there, but the blacksmith forge was outdoors, and it was far too dangerous for him to be outside of the palace. He groaned, and slid lower in his throne. Such reasoning was irrational. He wasn’t going to be alone; he was going to be with Stan. Should something happen, Stan would have been there to protect him. Was that not his job?

He felt like a child, made to wait while the adults did important tasks.

 _I_ suppose _I could do something to pass the time._

Yet there was nothing for him to do: he could count the tiles on the floor, for the millionth time, or watch as dust particles cascaded through the air. Things like that only bore him further. He longed for the way things were before the war: traveling the kingdom, seeing the people, interacting with them. Of course, that was when his father was king, and he seldom joined him, but he craved events that were out of the mundane: he craved the taste of fresh air, and the caress of opportunity.

With Stan, he hoped a soupçon of that.

* * *

“And that does it. You’re set to go.” Petuski smiled widely.

Stan could not help but return the gesture. “Thank you, Petuski.”

Petuski nodded. “Hey, uh, while we’re at it—” he was eyeing Stan’s ears. “Let me make you some new ear cuffs, some that look fancy, not common ones like those. Might have to take them off, so I can measure ‘em properly.”

“O-oh..” Stan looked away, bashful. “These were a gift, from my parents. I know they’re not much, but they mean a lot to me. I’d rather not replace them.”

A simple nod. “I understand. Well, then we are completely done. I’d say your armor’d be ready in…” He looked up in thought. “Couple of days, a week at most.”

“That’s—why so soon? Isn’t making armor difficult?”

“Of course it is, but an elf won’t sleep if he doesn’t have to. Now, I’ve kept you here long enough. Go back to our king, will ya? He’s been waiting.”

* * *

Evening was beginning to rise by the time Stan returned. Slightly frantic, he made his way to the throne room. He knew Kyle wouldn’t have gone anywhere, but he was gone longer than expected.

“My king.” He bowed before the throne. “Sincerest apologies.”

There were guards within the hall, in lieu of Stan.

“You are forgiven.” Kyle rose his voice in the slightest, “The rest of you are dismissed. I thank you for your services.”

The guards left the two in silence.

“What took you so long? Being fit for armor does not take half the day.” Kyle was exaggerating, and he knew it, but cared not.

“Ah, Petuski talked a great deal, and kept getting distracted.” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, but please don’t blame him for anything. He was simply doing his job.”

Kyle eyed Stan. “Very well, then. I understand.” He raised his chin. “The day’s been long. Am I correct to assume you have not had time to eat?”

Stan pressed his lips together. “That is correct my ki—ah, sir—Kyle.”

Kyle chuckled and stood from his throne, walking towards Stan and the doors. “Follow me, Stan. There is a meal prepared for both of us.”

“My apologies for making you wait.”

“Nonsense. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a meal with someone.” He smiled, and stopped once he was next to Stan.

Stan fought the urge to giggle, and although he kept it down, his expression gave him away.

Kyle quirked a brow. “How, now, Stan, what is the matter?”

“Sincerest apologies.” He bowed quickly. “I was not expecting this… height difference.”

Kyle looked Stan up and down, who stood almost an entire head above him. “And you find that amusing?”

“Well—it’s just that—with you being a person with so much power, I would have assumed you’d be taller.” Stan instantly regretted what he said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your height! I myself find it quite wonderful—ah, I should just stop talking.” His face burnt bright red.

Kyle chuckled softly. “I’ll save you from your misery. Please, come this way. The food beckons us, good sir.” He continued towards the door, long robe trailing behind him.

Stan exhaled silently yet deeply. He had been nervous before, but never this badly. The words seemed to come out on their own: he had no control over his words and thought; they continued to flow and spill, making him look like a blabbering imbecile.

Worst first impression, especially when it came to the king.

* * *

Their meal had lasted a lot longer than any meal the two had recently, due for the most part from their continuous conversation: they spoke of their lives, their interests, likes, dislikes, many of the surface level things that newly acquainted people spoke of; nothing too deep, but enough to get a broad picture of the person.

By the time they had ran out of material, they realized the moon was high in the sky.

“You must excuse me,” Kyle bit his bottom lip, “We had spoken of your difficult day, yet I neglected to realize the time, nor take into consideration any fatigue you may be experiencing.”

 _Kyle is way too formal._ “No need to apologize. I too am at fault, for I have kept you up, as well.”

The two laughed, then stood and headed out the dining hall. Waiting outside was a handmaiden.

“Karen? Have you been waiting for us this entire time? I apologize.”

“No, no, my king.” Karen curtsied deeply. “Your apology is not needed. It is my duty to see both you and this knight to your chambers.” Karen stood up, her posture rigid yet relaxed. She had long brown hair and clear blue eyes.

Stan found her beautiful, as he did with all the elves.

Karen explained to the two that a few maids and servants had cleared an empty room for Stan, one not too far from Kyle’s chambers. She started down the hall, to the stairs, and urged the two to follow her.

There was a lot of walking and steps to climb in the palace, especially since their chambers were on the top floor. Stan had thanked the spirits for his agility, for allowing him to make it to the top without collapsing.

At the top of the stairs were two hallways, one continuing straight, and the other going left. Karen explained that Kyle’s chambers took up the entirety of the straight hall, whereas the left one had various smaller rooms. Stan’s room was one of the larger ones, and was farther along the hall. After showing Stan where each of the rooms were, she curtsied once again, wishing the two a goodnight, then headed down the stairs.

“I hope you enjoyed your first day here at the palace.” Kyle grinned. “As do I hope you sleep and rest well tonight. Tomorrow I will take you on a personal tour of the palace. With that, I bid thee adieu and goodnight.”

Kyle walked down the hall, disappearing in its deep shadows.

“Uh, goodnight, Kyle.” Stan hoped he had heard him.

With a nerve-calming sigh, Stan turned to the left and walked down the hall. There were quite a bit of windows and torches that allowed visibility in the hall, and he eventually found the door to his room. _Alas, here comes the living space._ He opened the door slowly, not knowing what to expect. The door opened with a long creak, evident of its little use.

Near the entrance sat the chest he brought with him to the palace, one filled with his nicer wears and a few belongings. He was thankful for those who brought the chest all the way to the top of the palace, and thankful for everyone that welcomed him into it.

He would have to personally thank them all, as well as those who prepared his new room.

There was one large window parallel to the door, allowing bright moonlight to enter, two smaller ones on each side. A large bed with cotton sheets and a frame was to his left, nightstands on either side, a closet in the far corner, and wardrobe directly to Stan’s left. On the right sat a wooden dresser, candles, and flowers on top. The far-right corner became a hall, extending beyond Stan’s view. He assumed it led to a wash station.

He stepped into the room, which felt larger than his home near Evahyl. The walls held unlit candle holders, and flowers hung from the ceiling. How they stayed fresh remain unknown, but they added a natural beauty to the glorious room. Stan found himself dazed once again, baffled at what he was given. Growing up humble, he felt that he did not deserve such treatment. He only wanted to protect his king—to protect Kyle—not to live in glory and riches.

Stan pushed his fingers through his hair, keeping them there. Exhaustion proved to be a worthy adversary, and Stan felt himself losing the fight. He turned to the chest near his feet, digging through it until he found his sleepwear. In his fatigued state, he could not process the things that were happening to him. It would be best to take up his issues with Kyle in the morning.

 _Kyle, the king of Erendriel._ Did he like Stan, or simply tolerated him? The two had just met, and Stan already felt himself doubting their potential relationship, if they ever were to become more than king and subordinate. So many things could go wrong, and would, and if Kyle found out—

 _No, stop it, Marsh. You’re better than this. Kyle_ _is_ nothing _like that._

Sleepy minds were no match for anxious thoughts.

Stan tried his best to change his clothes, keep his thoughts at bay, and go to sleep. It would be better for everyone if irrational fears stayed silent. In automatic movements, Stan managed to complete all of his nightly routines. He realized he was pulling the covers over his shoulders, and had little time to think about it before he fell asleep, the walls of his new home surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter today! Finally got le baby boi Stan in on the action. Thank you guys for reading and supporting me! Feedback would be much appreciated, as well. Take care!


	3. Chapter 3

Although not as large and grand as Stan would have thought the palace to be, it withheld many rooms and halls, and winding walkways, as well as stairs. In the three floors it had, the palace held two dining halls, a ballroom, the servants’ quarters, guards’ quarters, guest rooms, the king’s chamber, and many other areas that Stan lost track of.

Stan and Kyle stopped in front of twin chestnut doors. They had been walking for half the day, and finally found themselves back on the third floor. Stan hoped this was their last stop.

“It has been some time since I last walked this much.” Kyle turned to Stan. “Thank you for accompanying me. This is one of my favorite places to spend time in.” He smiled as he pushed the doors open.

The two were standing at a railing, stairs leading down an abnormally large library. Peering down, it appeared as if it began at the bottom floor, held a few levels, yet ascended to the top of the palace. There were thousands of books, each neatly stored in strong wood and iron bookshelves. There were rugs, chairs, tables, end tables, encasements and plants arranged throughout the library. Windows near the ceiling gave a warm overhead lighting, and candle holders offered lighting once night fell.

“Candles and books, that’s… not a good combination.”

Kyle looked at Stan, mouth agape, before going into a fit of laughter, having to hold onto the railing or else he would fall.

“You are shown this glorious library and _that_ is your reaction? Oh, Sanctum, Stan you are incredible.”

Stan blushed and giggled, “Well, I have never seen so many books in one place, or in my life. I was at a loss of words, and spoke without thinking.” He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s beautiful, Kyle. I can see why it is one of your favorite places.”

With a smile, Kyle ushered Stan to follow him down the stairs; he was to share with Stan the wonders of the library, show him how the books were separated, where each genre was located, the artifacts encased in glass throughout the levels. The two neglected the time, and Kyle gleefully showed Stan some of his favorite books, beaming at being able to talk about them with someone.

“This library is magnificent, yet is much more marvelous with someone else around. The librarian is not currently here, though he is not much company.”

Once done with their tour of the library—and therefore the palace in its entirety—the two sat down on some chairs, basking in the remaining sunlight. Kyle smiled, his warmth radiating through the air, giving the towering area a cordial atmosphere. Stan felt content, being able to spend the day with Kyle and break the distance of strangers.

“Pardon me, but are you not needed in the throne room?”

“You are pardoned.” Kyle grinned. “In truth, I am not. I am free to wander the palace whenever I please, yet it loses its charm once one has roamed through it countless of times. As with this library, things are put into another—more attractive—perspective when with another.”

* * *

Once the sun had set, the candles were lit, and Stan and Kyle remained where they were.

“Tell me,” Kyle started, “of your mentor, the one that taught you with the sword and in culinary.”

“Yes, Jerome. He was a large man, but I believe his heart was larger. He was willing to take me—a strange orphan—off the street, and raise me as his son. I know not what would have happened if he had not, and do not wish to think of it. Jerome was a blessing, and one of the greatest men I have ever met.”

“I see. Should the opportunity present itself, would you be willing to share your culinary knowledge with me?”

“Oh.” Stan felt his face heat up. “I am nothing compared to him, yet if my king wishes it, it shall be done.”

Kyle leaned over, chin resting in his hand. “And of your parents?”

“Forgive me, but there is not much to say. Yesterday I told you all there was.”

Kyle studied Stan, his face, his hair, his cuffed ears. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that is all.”

He stood and walked over to Stan, who felt himself stiffen. Should he stand as well? Should he kneel? Bow? In his indecisive panic, Kyle stood before him, slowly leaning down, keeping his eyes locked on Stan’s, and bringing his hands up to Stan’s face.

Stan stopped breathing.

What was Kyle doing? Was he to caress Stan’s face? That could not happen, that should not happen. Stan frantically looked around, and the two were alone. 

Yet nothing intimate happened. Kyle had quickly reached to the ear cuffs and pulled them off, skipping a few steps away. Stan couldn’t breathe, frozen in shock and fear.

Underneath the ear cuffs were short rounded ears, unlike those of elven kind.

“I—my king—Kyle, I can explain—”

“It is as I suspected.” Kyle audibly exhaled, the sound sharp and chilling. “Many of us wear these, especially on occasions that require elegance and adornment—as I do—yet they are rarely of this material and kind.” His emerald eyes glowed menacingly in the candlelight as he twirled the cuffs in his hand. “Should one be unable to pay for the ones made of precious minerals, they would be better off showing their ears as is, unless they had something to hide.”

“My king—” Stan had his hands up in surrender, and was slowly making his way to the floor, going into a deep bow that looked more like begging. “I swear on my life that I have no ill-intent. I am loyal to you and the kingdom of Erendriel, and only wish for its prosperity. I hid in fear of being judged, but my heart remains the same, regardless of what I am. Forgive me, my king. Forgive me, Kyle. If my disposal would bring you comfort and ease, then so be it.”

Kyle glowered at the begging human before him, enclosing his fist around the ear cuffs. “Rise, Marshlands. You will not receive any punishment from me or anyone else in the kingdom. Although we have not known each other long, your pure heart is as clear as day. Rise, rise. As I said earlier, you are pardoned.”

Stan could not believe what he was hearing. Slowly he lifted his head and gazed up upon the king. “Is this true? Am I to receive amnesty, to remain in this position as your guard?”

Kyle nodded once, “You are correct.”

He pushed himself off the floor in excitement, “Oh, my king, you know not the joy and relief this brings me. My word still stands, regardless of any of this: I will protect you.”

“Yes, very well, then. However, you are not forgiven for those times you referred to me as your king.” Kyle smiled brightly.

Stan let out a chuckle, his anxiety leaving with it. “Apologies for that.”

Kyle handed Stan his ear cuffs. “I take it Petuski offered to make you cuffs, but you refused. What excuse did you give?”

“I did not give him an excuse, and simply told the truth. Well, half the truth. I told him my parents had given these to me—which they did.”

“Understood. I will send word out to him to make them—” He looked at Stan’s ears, “Slightly smaller than the standard size. I understand their personal worth, but if we are to keep this secret, you cannot be seen with those much longer.”

Stan nodded, “Yes, of course. I understand.” 

* * *

“I thoroughly enjoyed myself today.” Kyle turned to face Stan once more before he retired for the night. “Thank you for that, and please do not worry about our little secret.” He grinned. “I would like to have many more days like this.”

Stan could not help but smiles as well. “I trust you full heartedly.” He bowed, then turned to enter his room.

He did not know what to expect as Kyle’s protector, yet was pleasantly surprised with the day’s events. Stan hoped that their time together would not differ, and yearned for them to remain as peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but a secret was reveled! Dun dun duuunnnn~  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Being recently introduced to the layout of the palace, Stan was grateful to be following Kyle’s lead. They strolled through the long and winding halls, Kyle speaking of various topics, mainly the palace and life within it. 

“My grandfather was the one responsible for initiating the palace’s construction. King Erendriel was—evidently—the first king of Erendriel. He brought unity within the chaos of the first war’s destruction, creating a family out of refugees and a home out of ashes. Of course, the Tree of Sanctum proved responsible for the physical aspect, but he held an incredible charisma and strength that bound everyone together, or so they say.

“He and his wife Evahyl reigned over the kingdom for quite some time, nearly four hundred years. Their reign should have lasted longer, but they unfortunately succumbed to their age, having united the kingdom later in their lives. Next in line was my father, King Broflovski. He was not as old as my grandfather was when he was king, and would have lasted a lot longer. As you know, his reign was cut short. If things had gone well, he would have been around for perhaps three-hundred more years.”

Kyle sighed, “Although only two, the kings before me were great, powerful, and mighty. Even with their eminence, both of their reigns were shorter than they should have been. My reign has just begun, and already there is a looming threat. I fear facing a fate as those before me.”

Taken aback, Stan did not know how to respond.

They walked a few more steps before he spoke.

“I appreciate that you voiced this concern with me, but you have no need for fear. Forgive the assumptions, yet I do not believe King Erendriel nor King Broflovski had a protector, as you do.” He tried a smile.

Kyle returned the gesture, “You are correct in your assumption, valiant knight.”

* * *

“You have already met Chief Ike, head of the royal guard. Though high in status, he can be quite hard to find.” Kyle chuckled. “The fair lady Karen is someone else you have met. Petuski, the blacksmith, and I believe that is all. Am I missing anyone?”

Stan shook his head. “No, my king, that is all.” A teasing smile.

“Well, then, other people within the are Malkinson, Jason, Burch, Valmer, Thelman, Cotswolds—”

“I yield, I yield! Kyle, that’s too many names without faces.”

Kyle smirked. “The punishment should fit the crime: neglect my name and I shall bombard you with abundance of names. Though, there are many others that I missed, yet I hope you may become acquainted with them all.”

As they rounded a curve, a guard patrolling the halls came into view. He stopped, and took a bowing knee. “Greetings, my king. I trust your day is ripe with pleasures.”

Kyle stifled a chuckle. “Rise, Kevin. I thank you for your words. Allow me to introduce you to someone. This is my knight, Stan of the Marshlands. Stan, this is Kevin, a guard that has been with us for several years.”

Kevin stood; his light brown hair flattened by a helmet. “Pleasure to be acquainted with you, fellow warrior.”

Stan felt a laugh well-up in his chest. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He nodded to Kevin, who returned it, then continued his trek.

They passed the kitchens, and were nearly knocked over by someone running out the doors. Stan quickly pulled Kyle back and stepped before him to protect him.

The runner jumped. “Sincerest apologies—” He saw Kyle and nearly collapsed. “My king! Oh, please,” He bowed lowly, “Forgive me for nearly causing you harm.”

“All is well. You may stand.”

The runner did as he was told, hair doing a small flip at every movement.

“I mentioned him previously, Stan. This here is Thelman, and he works in various positions within the palace.”

Thelman looked to Stan. “It’s a pleasure.”

Stan did not know why they all found it a pleasure to meet him.

“Likewise.”

“Thelman, would you happen to know if your entourage is here?”

“As a matter of fact, they are. They should be in the courtyard, my king. I wish you well on your travels.”

* * *

“I thoroughly hope you enjoy this, Stan. The Eldritch are quite the interesting group, and are mighty warriors. I warn you, they can be aggressive, crude, and apathetic. Thelman is the odd one, being more sympathetic than the rest.”

Kyle pushed open two wooden doors, revealing a large courtyard paved with cream-colored bricks. There were trellis overhangs with dark green vines and small flowers, offering shade on one side of the courtyard. The other half appeared to be a small amphitheater, the steps a slight darker color than the bricks. Standing against the far wall supporting the overhang were three warriors in black armor, two male and one female.

The Eldritch saw Stan and Kyle approaching and stood up straighter.

“My king,” the tallest said and bowed, the other two following suit.

“It has been far too long, Michael, Firkle, and Henrietta.”

“Well, we _have_ been fighting in a war.”

Kyle pressed his lips together. “Y—yes, that much is true.”

“Is there a reason for you to be out here, your highness? Is it not dangerous? And I doubt raven-hair here can do much damage.” Henrietta asked in a monotone voice.

Stan felt his chest tighten for a second.

“I simply wanted to welcome you back in the palace, and see how you three are doing. As with everyone else in the palace, I am introducing Stan of the Marshlands as my knight.”

“As Henrietta said, I doubt he has the competence for such a feat.” Firkle put his hand to his sword. “Care to prove your worth, follower?”

Stan looked to Kyle, who looked equally confused.

“If my king permits it.”

Kyle shot Stan a glare that lasted a split second. “I see no harm in a spar between Stan and one of you.”

“No, it has to be the three of us. If he is truly competent, he will manage.” Michael stepped in.

Stan inhaled deeply. “I accept your challenge.”

* * *

With his back facing the amphitheater, Stan drew his weathered sword.

Kyle sat at the first level of the amphitheater, spectating.

The Eldritch prowled before their opponent, Michael directly before him, with Henrietta and Firkle on either side of him. They drew their weapons, slowly coming to surround Stan.

Both Stan and Kyle felt their heartbeat quicken in fear of losing this battle.

“Wait,” Kyle stood suddenly, “Are there not prop weapons you may use instead? We would not want to sustain any injuries during this spar.”

The Eldritch thought on this for a moment, Stan feeling a small sense of relief.

“If the king requests it—” Michael sighed, “Then so it shall be.”

After the short delay and replacement of weapons for wooden counterparts, the spar resumed its previous arrangement.

Stan felt his breathing quicken, yet forced it down. He had to remain calm, in control. He scanned the foes before him.

Firkle was the first to strike, running towards Stan’s right, sword cleaving downwards. Stan pivoted his foot, catching Firkle’s sword with his own, pushing him away. Henrietta charged, swinging her sword to his hips. Stan spun on his heels, bending his arms back to counter her attack. Michael came forward, taking advantage of the situation. Stan kept Henrietta in place, waited for Michael, leaned back, and kicked him square in the stomach.

The fight continued as such, with constant exchanges and shifts in direction and attacker. Stan managed to keep The Eldritch at a safe distance, avoiding any hits that may have dealt serious damage.

Though, he had not managed to land any blows himself. Being constantly on defense prevented him from attempting any offensive strikes.

He had to keep fighting them, had to keep pushing them away. An opening would come in time; he just had to last long enough to take advantage of it.

Twist, pivot, thrust, counter.

_Repeat the moves._

Dodge, parry, move away.

A swing from the left, lunge from the right, strike from the front.

_Do not let them get too close. Do not let them surround you. Do not let them get behind._

Firkle miscalculated the strength of his swing, leaving him slightly disoriented.

_An opening._

Stan ran towards him, spinning on his heels to go slightly behind him, then swung his sword behind Firkle.

The blow would not prove fatal, but did not shy away from echoing through the courtyard. Firkle grunted, went into a coughing fit, and fell on all fours

One down.

Stan lunged away from Firkle, being sure to keep his distance from the remaining two. They seemed to be much more experienced, much more of a challenge.

Michael resumed the fight, reaching for a lower blow to Stan’s knees. Moving away from him would only give strength to his attack.

Stan ran towards Michael, catching him by surprise. Stan himself felt surprised as well, going against his previous strategy.

The swing—already in motion—could not be stopped. Stan jumped, avoiding the attack, and brought his sword down heavily to Michael’s shoulder.

He dropped his sword, clutching his tingling and unmoving arm, falling to his knees.

One left, and she proved to be the deadliest.

Unrelenting in her attacks, Henrietta moved with a sturdy and hard dexterity. Though large in build, she proved quick and strong, not failing to deliver a blow to her opponent.

Stan managed to block all her attacks, yet found himself growing weaker while she seemed to grow stronger.

“Come on, now, little raven.” Henrietta panted “Is that all you’ve got?”

His breath came out heavier than hers, prohibiting him from speaking. He shook his head.

Henrietta smiled, a gesture that softened her hard and serious, yet crazed, face. It looked unnatural on her. She ran towards Stan, black hair flailing behind her.

This woman was a beast, untouchable, and unstoppable.

Stan stood his ground, planting his feet firmly below him. If he could not stop her with force, he would derail her with stability.

Henrietta plunged her sword, aiming for Stan’s stomach. He blocked it, twisted his own sword, and sent her stumbling slightly.

Everyone watched in anticipation, anxious to know who would come out victorious. A few patrolling guards had stopped to watch as well.

A pause before Henrietta went for another attack, only to be blocked again, as well as with her subsequent attacks.

She stopped, stood tall, lowered her sword, and began pacing. Her dark eyes were as sharp as any blade.

“That all, Raven? Does thou fear me, a woman?” She teased, and raised her arms. “I am all yours, sir knight. Come forth, and deliver a blow.”

Her taunting continued, dangerously close to mockery.

The audience began to chuckle, but Kyle remained attentive.

Stan had no choice: he had to go in for the attack. He expected to deliver the final blow. The fight had to reach its end.

With a deep inhale, Stan shifted his stance from one of defense to offense, then ran towards Henrietta. She watched his every move, anticipating his attack.

Mirroring her previous attacks, Stan went for a blow from above.

Wood clashed against wood, two opposing forces pushing against each other.

Stan quickly pulled back, but did not stop his attacks.

He swung to her left, but was stopped.

To her right, stopped again.

Once again from above, but with all his strength.

A loud crash echoed through the courtyard, wood sprayed into the air, and Henrietta stumbled backwards.

Stan held a cracked wood sword to her face, aiming it directly between her eyes.

Their breaths were the only thing audible in the courtyard.

“Looks like you win, Raven.” She walked towards her aching comrades.

Some guards cheered, then returned to their posts. Kyle walked to Stan.

“You did marvelously. Congratulations on your victory. Watching was exhilarating, and I cannot begin to think how it felt to be a part of it.”

Stan laughed. “Fighting and sparring is my specialty. Although, I do admit that my wrist—” he held up his right hand, “Might have sustained a slight injury.” He nervously smiled.

“Thou should see the others!” Firkle yelled from across the amphitheater.

Kyle giggled. “Come, let us see Cotswolds, the healer. Michael, Henrietta, Firkle, you are welcome to join us, for it looks like you need it a lot more than Stan.”

* * *

“I cannot believe this. Wooden swords are for sparring. _Sparring!_ Not fighting to the death.” She fumbled with some bandaged, wrapping them around Michael’s shoulder. Her big brown curls bounced with every move.

“We had to deem whether or not this knight was truly worthy to guard our king, and not a simply follower.” Michael winced as she tightened the bandages.

“And did you not stop and think that _we_ would have done such a task before bringing him here?”

“’Course we did. Didn’t mean we couldn’t, too.”

“All right, then,” Kyle cut in, “Settle down. Should there be any one to blame, it should be me. I was the one to permit their spar.”

Cotswolds sighed. “My king, there is no need to take on their burden of incompetence.” She turned to Stan and examined his wrist. “I’ll wrap this up like with the other two, but luckily the injury is minor.”

Firkle scoffed. “ _Luckily_.”

“And you, sir knight, what do you have to say for yourself? This time there was little consequence, yet what if it were something more serious? Are you to participate in these horrible banters?”

Stan sighed. “Nevermore.”

Henrietta chimed in from the edge of the room, “Doth quote the raven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to, I had to! My nerdy ass literature brain would not leave me alone, and I had to make an Edgar Allen Poe reference. Speaking of literature references, the Goth Kids are the Eldritch? What the heck is that about? Well, I knew "Goth Kids" would be a really out-of-place name, so I had to give them something that fit the setting. Then I remembered the whole Cthulhu ordeal, and tadaaaa, Eldritch! Also, fight scene! I'm not very good at these, but there will be more, so it's nice practice. One last thing, follower = conformist, and Stan pretty much just follows Kyle around, so yeah. Yikes this note is long. Take care, and thanks for reading! uwu


	5. Chapter 5

The throne room held a vacant elegance, Kyle sitting atop the throne and Stan standing off to the side. A few days had passed since Stan’s spar against the Eldritch, and his wrist had healed. Due to the unexpected uproar, Ike and a few other guards had urged Kyle to remain within the palace. He had not been in harm’s way, but no one could take that chance.

Late morning stretched on before anything significant occurred. An elf covered in soot walked into the throne room, bowing several feet away from Kyle. He had a message: Petuski had finished Stan’s armor, and expected him at the blacksmith’s forge. 

“And why has he not come here himself?” Kyle raised his left pointer finger slightly, as well as his brow.

“Forgive me, my king, but he needs to be able to make alterations, should any be required.”

A hum. “Very well, then. We shall see him shortly.”

Stan felt giddy, his long-awaited armor being a horse ride away. He had never worn armor before, and wondered how it would be: would it be heavy, and weigh down his movements; fit him like a second skin, protecting him always? 

Once the messenger left, Stan realized what Kyle had said.

“’We,’ Kyle?”

“Yes—” he hopped off the throne and down the steps. “I will accompany you, and it is not a matter of debate. I too wish to see this anticipated armor. Follow me to the stables, Stan.”

The stables were held not too far from the courtyard and amphitheater, yet remained hidden. Being quite small, it only had a few horses and one stableman.

“Greetings, Burch. I trust you are well on this fine day.”

Burch poked his head out from behind a wall and nodded with a smile after bowing deeply.

Kyle returned the smile. “We are to see Petuski at the blacksmith’s forge. May we borrow a couple of horses?”

Extremely eager, Burch beamed and went to grab the horses. He returned with one champagne colored and another amber.

“Willzyx—” He handed the reigns of the champagne one to Kyle. “Spartacus.” The amber’s reigns to Stan.

“I thank you for your services, Burch.”

After being settled and strictly told to only go to the blacksmith’s forge and back, Stan and Kyle made their way down the hill. Their horse ride proved to be quite short, yet Kyle remained attentive and eager. Stan too felt excitement swelling in his chest.

Waiting outside of the forge stood Petuski, his face covered in soot. Not expecting Kyle, his face held surprise.

“I—my king—” He quickly and nervously bowed. “Forgive me, for I was not expecting you. The forge, it—it’s not suitable for your gracious presence.”

Stan had no words at the shift in Petuski’s behavior.

Kyle smiled and slid off his horse. “Your apology is not necessary. I too wished to see this awaited armor, and could not control my anticipation. Furthermore, I am not familiar with the blacksmith’s forge, and wished to see it as well.”

Petuski nodded. “Very well, my king. Please, follow me.”

The armor rested atop of one of the tables, being perhaps the only thing not covered in ash. Petuski grabbed it, and held it up for Stan and Kyle to see. Its warm brown leather was thick, smooth, and sturdy. The pauldrons held an intricate design resembling tree branches, implanted with a slightly lighter leather. Instead of a solid chest plate, it was divided in four, each side holding mirrored symbols.

For the arms, a thin yet strong suede, nearly black in color, allowing easy movement. There were gauntlets, reaching from the elbow to the wrist, elegant designs and symbols on the outside, laces on the inside. A thinner layer of leather covered the fist, wrapping around in a glove-like manner.

The belt had carved patterns, its left side forged to hold a scabbard. Suede covered the legs, yet the thighs had thin leather covering them, and there were poleyn with symbols. The boots nearly reached the knees, strapping around the back.

Both Stan and Kyle had no words. The piece held before them was not armor, but art. It was beautiful, elegant, and defensive.

“Your silences are proving quite worrisome. Is it not to either of your liking? I tried to make it fan— _refined,_ in order to be suitable for appearances. Did I go too far? Not enough?”

Stan stepped forward, unable to keep his eyes off the armor. “No, Petuski, it’s glorious. I can only speak for myself when I say I have never seen anything so exquisite.” He looked to the blacksmith. “Is it okay for me to wear this, let alone have it?”

“Actually—” Petuski set the armor back down, “No, not yet.” He turned and walked to a far-off table. “Not without this.”

He returned with a long scabbard, covered in vine-like gold that spiraled down it; the chape and locket were also covered in gold. A sword stuck out, its grip a deep brown with a light band wrapped sparingly around it, and a bronze pommel at the top. Unlike other swords, this one’s guard went out at an angle, then redirected itself to the blade. An obsidian gem in a rhombus shape had a small golden tree design, and connected the guard to the blade.

Petuski held the scabbard out to Stan, urging him to take in and unsheathe the sword. He did so, and was met with a stunning sword. Similar to its strangely shaped guard, the blade’s base dipped in at an angle before stretching out. Stan had never seen a metal as reflective and clear as the one comprising the blade, which almost had a mirror-like quality.

“Petuski, I—”

“Oh, almost forgot these.” In his blackened hands he held silver and bronze ear cuffs, which also had vine-like patterns on them.

“You have outdone yourself, Petuski,” Kyle finally spoke, “And have our gratitude.”

Stan had forgotten he accompanied him, but nodded at his statement, for he could find no words for himself.

Petuski bowed. “I am but a humble servant doing anything possible to protect my land and king.”

After a few exchanges, the three made their way inside the blacksmith quarters, Petuski helping Stan into his armor while Kyle waited. Fortunately, the armor fit Stan wonderfully, and he managed to switch out his ear cuffs without Petuski noticing. Petuski gave Stan a sack for his discarded clothes.

When Kyle saw Stan, he found himself speechless once again. No longer did Stan look like an ordinary person, but was now fitted as the ideal knight, armored and armed. His differentiated armor from the other guards brought a distinguished suave, immediately separating him from the rest.

For some unknown reason, Kyle felt his heart begin to race.

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Petuski,” Stan fumbled for words, “This is more than what I could have imagined. The armor—” Stan held his hands up and began to study them, turning them around and extending them, “It is incredible. The weight is something I will have to get used to, yet it does not feel burdensome. You have my sincere gratitude.”

Petuski shook his head and slapped Stan’s right pauldron, the sound of skin against leather echoing through the room. “T’was nothing, truly. Anything for my brethren.” He smiled widely.

Stan grinned, grabbed Petuski’s elbow, and shook his arm. Being shown such kindness felt foreign, but Stan wished to be able to return the altruism to Petuski and all those in Erendriel.

* * *

Riding to the palace, returning the horses, and walking inside took some time, yet the sun remained high in the sky. With a reluctance to return to the throne room, Kyle decided to head to the library. Its former golden lighting remained, yet Stan and Kyle did not find themselves alone.

“Good afternoon, Malkinson.”

Malkinson bowed deeply. “And a fair afternoon to you, my king.” Unlike most elves, Malkinson’s wavy brown hair had streaks of grey sneaking into it.

“Stan, I would like to introduce you to our librarian, Malkinson. He has been in the palace for nearly its entire existence, and is our resident expert in various topics.”

Malkinson and Stan nodded to each other before Malkinson noticed the designs and intricacy of Stan’s armor.

“Oh, my word. Did Petuski do this? Of course he did. No other elf in the land has his skill and precision.” His hands were nearly on the armor before he looked to Stan. “May I?”

Stan nodded again. “You may.”

With a new set of eyes, the armor’s design came into a greater perspective.

“Beautiful. He engraved The Tree of Sanctum itself into the armor, and into the sword. These symbols you see here, they are from the ancient elven language, far proceeding the Great War. These at the chest roughly translate to ‘power;’ at the knees, ‘strength;’ the gauntlets, ‘unity.’ Magnificent. Truly remarkable.”

Stan and Kyle were far more amazed than at the blacksmith’s forge. It seemed that Petuski was more than just a talented blacksmith.

“Are you familiar with the legend of The Tree of Sanctum, Stan?”

“I know of it, as all residents of Erendriel do, yet I am afraid that I do not have deep knowledge of it.”

Malkinson nodded. “Tis quite all right, for many of us are beginning to forget the legend. Our king here is well-versed in it, and is more than capable of sharing it.” He smiled to Kyle.

Kyle raised his brows surprisingly, and even took a small step back. “I—forgive me, but I am nowhere near as talented as you in reciting the tale. Please, Malkinson, grant us the honor of hearing the legend.”

He hummed. “Very well, then. Apologies for any discomfort I may have caused you, my king. Please, let us sit down; this tale is long and grand, and I cannot allow the two of you to tire out.”

_In the times before, magic drove all life, bringing prosperity. Mages trained their entire lives to be able to harness its power, but none could come close to mastering it. Though grand, magic proved to be an uncontrollable weapon. War had raged throughout the land, bringing chaos and destruction; death became a familiarity, and no one had the luxury to say they were unaffected. The cause for the war remained lost, but greed was a main competitor; it seemed greed fueled all turmoil within the land._

_How long the war lasted was lost in the conflict. Some say a mere two years, others, thousands. With magic, either of those were possible. Purged of its excellence, the land was burnt and scarred, black covered everything, and smoke chocked the living. Many found it uninhabitable, and left to greater lands. Others were not as competent, and were slowly killed off by the consequences of war. The wielding of magic was lost concurrently._

_Those that remained became divided, and would evolve to the modern races of today: humans and elves. Yes, the symbols on the armor predated this war, as elves existed long before, but were not as grand as they are today. Fortunately for the elves, a drop of magic remained: through the ashes, a minuscule plant began to grow, and the elves cared for it as best they could. It seemed to thrive on their love, as well as the aspirations of the fallen, their hopes and dreams._

_The plant grew, blossoming into a tree, and continued to spread its roots through the dead land, raising life. From the ashes sprouted prosperous lands—though it took decades, if not centuries—and the first King Erendriel molded it into a glorious kingdom. By the time the kingdom had been established, the magic gradually seeped into the elves, granting them their unusually long lifespans. Erendriel remains prosperous with the roots and magic weaved into it. The magic did not stop with us, but spread into the humans’ land. However, they neglected that power, and once again brought themselves ruin._

_Without the Tree of Sanctum, there would be no life: it is the heart of this kingdom. Its location has been kept a secret, for fear of an attack. Should the Tree of Sanctum fall, life would follow closely behind. Magic may not be wielded, but as with Erendriel, it may be harnessed from the Tree of Sanctum, and redirected. Whether fortunate or not, the secrets of such a feat have been lost through time._

Stan did not find the history terribly long, yet found it grand nonetheless. Kyle—though he knew it by heart—remained entranced with the tale. 

Malkinson smiled kindly. “I have dedicated my life to learn all there is about this land, including the Tree of Sanctum. I have studied it, and make frequent trips. Words cannot begin to describe its unrestricted beauty.”

“I too wish to see the Tree of Sanctum.” Kyle looked to Stan with a grin. “Perhaps when this war has ended.”

Stan’s stomach felt light.

Malkinson nodded and hummed. “Perhaps, you may accompany me on one of my outings, my king. Of course, we would have to prepare, and bring any necessary protection and supplies.”

Kyle smiled and looked to Stan. He wished to be able to see the Tree of Sanctum, and bring Stan with him. Such an occurrence is of the greatest honor, and Stan would be the first human to be in its presence.

“I would be more than happy to, Malkinson. I thank you for the invitation, and wait for the time to come. Are you to return to the Tree of Sanctum soon?”

Malkinson shook his head. “My king, my previous expedition has just ended. I need to rest, and record all that I discovered. I will remain here, in the library, for a few weeks. Both you and Stan may come as you please, but I will inform you that I may not have the time to speak with you, as with today.”

Both Stan and Kyle nodded in understanding.

 _Hopefully,_ Kyle thought, _the war would be over by then._

His optimism came in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, lore!!! What the heck was the deal with the Tree of Sanctum? Well, here's the long awaited (maybe?) legend-thing! You guys remember the watchtower tree in the game? Yeah, me neither, until a few months after I finished the first draft hehe. Oh, and armor for Stan! Rad! My descriptions for the armor and sword might be wack, so you can head on to my twitter, where I will be posting art for my fic! I'm more active on instagram, but Twitter will be the art hub. (@/roguendeavor, as always). Either way, you're all welcome to drop by at any time! Take care! uwu


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom Chapter 5

Stan and Kyle spent the day apart. Stan went with Ike to get the palace’s system and security in check, whereas Kyle remained in the palace with Karen.

“Is the shift from Evahyl to the palace treating you well, Marshlands?”

“Please, Chief, Stan is more than enough, and yes; I am adjusting well within the palace.”

The two were patrolling the palace borders, the sun beating down on their skin. Unlike the previous days, there was an unusual heatwave.

“That comes as a relief. However—” Ike eyed Stan, “You are not here for leisure, or as some sort of break from reality. You have perhaps the most important task in the entire kingdom: guard and protect the king, or fail the entire land." 

Stan held his breath and nodded quickly: Ike knew how to intimidate others, and did so with a blunt ease.

Ike looked ahead for some time before speaking once again. “I know the great weight of this, and I also know the weight of its failure. I dare not say I was fortunate that the former king and queen had an heir, yet I bless Sanctum for giving us a sliver of hope.”

“Forgive me, but I feel as if I am coming to false conclusions. I do not understand.”

Ike stopped, and Stan stopped a few steps after.

“Come with me. The heat and sun are unrelenting, and I cannot allow for anyone else to overhear what I am to tell you.”

* * *

“Completely uncalled for. How dare he act without my consent, and today, of all days.”

“My king, please calm yourself. Chief Ike is simply familiarizing Marshlands with the palace, as you did not too long ago.”

“He wishes to be called Stan, Karen, and you have no need to give Ike a title.”

Kyle was standing before a long mirror, Karen delicately cutting the ends of his crimson hair. It fell in tresses, dancing gently as it descended.

“Forgive me for speaking out of line, but I cannot understand why you insist on regularly cutting your hair, my king. It is absolutely gorgeous.”

“I thank you for your kind words, Karen. As for the reason, my hair is hardly tamable as is. Growing it too long will only make a mess of things. Besides, the length it is now is long enough, and comfortable.”

Kyle’s hair stood above his shoulders, and cascaded in harsh waves.

“I understand, my king. It appears that I have cut off all unruly ends. We are—for the moment—finished.”

* * *

Stan and Ike sat under the shade of a tree located a small distance away from the palace, but far enough from any unwanted ears.

Ike stared off at the palace. “It took place perhaps five years ago…”

_The day proved bright and warm, perfect for the routine meetings between the kingdoms. Alternating every meeting, the humans’ king made his way to Erendriel. It had started as the countless of other meetings the kingdoms held, with exchanges of goods and words: the palace held a small feast for their guests, and performers were making their way through the doors._

_Greater suspicion should have rose when a single carriage arrived at the palace, holding only the king and a few guards, but was shrugged off due to the recent death of the humans’ queen. Erendriel mourned for their loss, and attempted to support them, yet the human king often denied all efforts._

_Once they had dined and settled in, King Cartman, King Broflovski Erendriel, and Queen Sheila began to stroll through the palace. This was usual, as they spoke of any topic and issue, before speaking privately in a meeting room. Erendriel guards stood sparsely through the halls, but none followed the royals. Per King Cartman’s request, they were to be without guard before attending to the matters of the meeting. Suspicion should have rose, but was quickly waved off._

* * *

Kyle stared into the mirror as he dressed, Karen standing by, should he need aid. He pulled his collar up high, covering his throat.

“I thank you for all that you’ve done, Karen. You are dismissed for the day.”

“My king—” she walked up to him, and helped him adjust a few belts, “Are you certain? I know of your… _hesitance_ and unease with certain matters.”

Kyle placed his circlet atop of his head, and Karen tamed lose hairs.

“Everything will be fine. I thank you for your concern, but am fully capable of doing things on my own. That is addressed to you, anyone in this palace, and even Stan.”

* * *

_No one had known that the prince had somehow managed to sneak into their private meetings. He had witnessed things that no child_ _should have seen._

* * *

Kyle walked down the halls, gazing at the details in the walls, rugs, and floor. His eyes followed the falling dust particles in the sun’s rays, held his hand out to catch some, and blew others away. Guards and servants nodded and bowed to him as they passed, offering him smiles and assistance.

He returned the smiles, and denied the assistance.

* * *

_Perhaps it was due to his large stature, but King Cartman had managed to sneak in a weapon. While King Erendriel conversed, King Cartman grabbed the queen, and impaled her many timed before silencing her. King Erendriel tried to call for help, but he too was slain._

* * *

He walked past the throne room, and did not dare to look through its open doors.

* * *

_Why it took the guards so long to react remained a mystery, but they were too late for the king and queen. They died in that room, their blood staining the stone floor. The prince must have reacted, made a noise, do something to attract King Cartman’s attention. He turned towards him, forgetting his weapon, and went for his slender throat._

* * *

Through a partially hidden door, Kyle made his way down to the catacombs of the palace, which were near the unused dungeons. The staircase spiraled downwards, and offered little light. He took his time, as he had no other priorities or tasks for the day.

* * *

_Fortunately, the guards snapped back into action, and ran into the throne room. Nearly unconscious, the prince hardly moved on the floor. The room was empty except for him and the two corpses. King Cartman must have somehow escaped through one of the halls on either side of the back of the room. The entire palace was alerted of the death of the king and queen, which served as the declaration of war._

_Though in critical condition, Prince Erendriel managed to survive, yet he had severe bruising to his throat, and could not speak for some time. The news of the king and queen devastated him, and crippled him for some time, as well. The weight of an entire kingdom and war was thrust upon the shoulders of an inexperienced child._

Stan was at a loss of words. He had not known the truth about the start of the war.

Ike sighed. “As I am now, I was the chief guard. I failed the former king and queen, yet am granted the privilege to remain in this position. I cannot afford to fail, and am more than willing to lay down my life for the king and kingdom. All of us are.”

Stan nodded. “Yes, of course. I am, too.”

Ike held a faint smile. “You’re eager. I like that, Marshlands. I am sure you and the king will become well acquainted with each other. To this day, he wears high collars. Please do not point it out. We think he fears scars remain, or some other reason regarding the attack.”

“I will not speak a word of it, or of this. I thank you for trusting with this knowledge, and will do everything possible for the king.”

* * *

The catacombs were held deep underground, a slight distance away from the palace. At its center, sunlight crept in and shone brightly; a small well on the surface provided the illumination. Under the stream of light grew a small tree, with an even smaller garden around it. A few butterflies and bugs flew through the light.

Kyle walked to the garden, and held the end of a tree branch in his hand. A sad smile tugged at his lips before he turned to the catacombs themselves. The garden reflected against the stone, basking it in an eerie green light. He ran his hand along two of the tombs, tears stinging his eyes, yet a wide smile placed itself on his lips.

“Happy anniversary, mom and dad.”

End of Act I, Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> じゃーん～！A bit of backstory/history. Poor poor Kyle. Also, I meant "child" as someone young and inexperienced. No he was not 8 or a baby. He was older, maybe a young teen haha. No specific age for the boys. They used to be 16/17, but I'm gonna leave their ages up to interpretation. (Hint: I see them older, maybe 20 and 21). Anyways, yay! End of Act I! I went back and renamed the first chapter as "Act I." This fanfic is divided by Acts, and at the end of each Act, there will be a small period without updates. I'm thinking they'll be a week, but I'll let you guys know if that's gonna change. Also, look forward to the next chapter ,';3c  
> Okay this is a long enough note.  
> Thanks for reading! See you guys in two weeks! Take care uwu


	7. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom Chapter 6

“You are certain you can handle this?”

“Of course. Additionally, Stan will be there the entire time. He is more than capable of fulfilling his duties.”

A click of the tongue. “I am not convinced. More guards should accompany you two. It is not safe, especially with tensions growing.”

“Ike, we will be fine—focus on _your_ responsibilities—and Stan and I will focus on the task before us.”

With a grumble, stating that Kyle was also his responsibility, Chief Ike turned and walked down the hall, exiting from the main doors. 

It had taken both Stan and Kyle a few days and more than a bit of convincing to have Ike grant them their request: spending a day outside of the palace. They both wanted it—needed it—and were at last given the opportunity to do so.

The two were to not be out late, and must be back before sunset, nor were they allowed to wander too far from the palace. Should anything occur, they were to head straight back in haste. Burch had prepared the same two horses for them, and equipped with all supplies Stan and Kyle may need: food, water, cloth, bandages, and the like.

Kyle sighed. “We are to be gone less than a day, and they have given us enough supplies for the week.”

Stan laughed. “They are simply looking out for their beloved king, and his gracious knight.” He smirked.

Kyle could not help but mirror his expression.

Ike stood by the horses, looking ready to give the two a scolding.

“My king, it is not too late to change your mind and stay here.”

Kyle groaned, and Stan looked to him surprised.

“Ike, I have told you countless times, and wish to tell you no longer: Stan and I are to spend the day away from the palace. We know not what we will do, but we hear your warnings, and shall take them into consideration. We are to be extremely cautious, return before the fall of night, and flee immediately should there be any danger."

With a stiff frown, Ike gave a firm yet unconvinced nod.

“I put my faith in you.” He looked to Stan, his eyes burning with concern.

“You have my word that no harm shall befall him, and of our safe and timely return.”

Giving a slightly more convinced nod, Ike allowed Stan and Kyle to mount their horses.

Stan pet Spartacus’ face, happy to be reunited with him. He looked over to Kyle with a smile. The day proved warm and bright, and he had high hopes for their outing.

“You ready?”

Kyle beamed. “But of course.”

* * *

The ride started as the one to the blacksmith’s forge, following the path down the hill, and out of the palace grounds. The further the palace went, the denser the forest became. Once they were fully ingulfed by trees, they slowed the horses down to a trot.

It had been some time since Stan had been in the Elven Forest, and even longer for Kyle. The sight amazed them all the same: lush green leaves shielded them from the sun, casting most of the forest in emerald and golden light. A gentle breeze blew, rattling the leaves and branches, creating a sweet whistle: they danced to their own chant. Underbrush covered most of the ground, but natural pathways appeared before them, beckoning them to enter, and go further into the sanctuary. Flowers dotted the forest, birds flew and sang natural melodies, and prosperity established its reign. The air, crisp and pure, embraced everything, and the cooler temperature eased them into bliss.

Kyle smiled, taking in the atmosphere of the forest. “It has been too long, o wonderous life. Thou prosper regardless of circumstances, beaming, and creating thine own beauty.”

Stan looked to Kyle, then to the forest, content. It truly held an unnatural beauty, so vast, so pristine, wonderous and great. It was alluring, incredibly green, just like Kyle’s eyes.

They continued their trek, going deeper into the forest, exposing themselves to its many wonders and sights. Several times they saw animals roaming, carefree and gracious. When the splashing of water made its way into the symphony of the forest, Kyle swung his leg over his horse and started walking.

“I believe our friends here have had enough. We should walk, and give them a break. I am sure you hear the brook nearby. Let us give them a rest there.”

Stan nodded and did the same, guiding Spartacus towards the creek.

Being small, the brook was settled under a thick canopy of leaves. Water flowed effortlessly and gentle, splashing against a few rocks, and spreading its power through the forest, acting like the veins of the body. Should its flow cease, the forest would suffer.

Kyle sat down with his back to a tree.

“Kyle, wait.” Stan shuffled through one of the knapsacks strapped on the horses, found a neatly folded cloth, and spread it over the grass.

“Please, sit here instead.”

“Stan, I am fine as is. Grime will not hurt me. It can always be washed out, but I will not always be here, taking in the forest.”

With a hesitant nod, Stan refolded the cloth, put it away, and sat near Spartacus.

Kyle turned to Stan, with a quizzical expression. “Why, Stan, I will not hurt you. Please, come sit near me.”

He stiffened. “Sure, yes. My apologies.” Quickly, he made his way next to Kyle.

Leaning his head back against the tree, Kyle closed his eyes; the wind continued to blow softly, along with the splashing of the brook.

“Can you feel it? There is magic here, pulsing through the forest, giving it life. The forest—it is more than living: it breathes, it sings, it cries, it feels. I sense its power; it flows through me as it does the land. I am invigorated, replenished from all fatigues. Great Sanctum, I thank thee for all thou hast done.”

Stan had to admit he felt what Kyle described, but not on the same level. He did feel energized and at peace, but not much more. He frowned, longing to be able to experience what Kyle did. Perhaps he may, one day. At the moment, it was enough to spend time with Kyle, basking in the light and life of the Elven Forest.

Kyle turned to look at Stan. “You are unable to feel it, correct?”

“You are correct. My apologies.”

Once again, Kyle groaned, only less dramatically than earlier in the day. “Stan, you have no need to apologize so frequently.” He shifted, getting on his knees, and facing Stan.

“You may not be attuned with the forest because you have not been here long. Or, perhaps, I have a strong bond due to my bloodline. I know not how others feel when stepping foot in the forest, yet one cannot deny its radiating power. It feels… well, I told you it is more than alive. I can feel its life energy and magic pulsing through the trees, the air, the creatures, and me. I feel it coming from you, as well.”

“Me?”

Kyle nodded. “You.”

Stan found himself leaning towards Kyle, who felt unbelievably close. The gravity and proximity proved unbearable, and he could not help himself.

“Here—” Kyle held out his hands. “Give me your hands. We can try to do this. I want you to feel the forest.”

Hesitant and not moving, Stan did not know what to do. Should he do as Kyle asked, or deny him?

“Kyle, I don’t think—”

“Oh, Stan. What are you afraid of? There is nothing to fear, and nothing to lose from this. You are simply to put your hands in mine, and do as I say. Is that so hard? You do the latter daily. Unless, of course, you do not want to touch.”

Kyle felt himself begin to pout. He wanted Stan to experience what he did, but he also wanted to share an amiable moment with him.

“No, of course not.” With hesitance and unease, Stan placed his hands in Kyle’s. His hands were smooth and warm, in contrast to his rough and calloused ones.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes, and focus on what I am saying. Understood?”

Stan nodded. “Understood.” He closed his eyes.

“Breathe slowly, in and out. Focus on your breathing, focus on the sounds surrounding you. Hear the birds, the splash of the brook, the flow of the wind.”

Stan focused on each of the sounds individually, starting with Kyle’s voice.

“Feel the presence of the tree near us, the blanket of the grass, the moisture in the cool air.”

Again, he focused on them individually, starting with the feeling of Kyle’s hands.

“Let the forest take hold of you. Welcome it with open arms. It will not hurt you, but protect and nourish you. Hear it, feel it, become a part of it. The forest is not a compiled set of individuals, but one: one living being. It breathes, it feels, its heart beats, as with any other living creature. Acknowledge its presence, its essence. It is as you are and me: no more, and no less.”

Try as he may, Stan continued to feel out of tune with the forest. He sighed, opened his eyes, and removed his hands from Kyle.

“I was unable to experience it. Sincerest apologies.”

“Stan, stop apologizing. There is no need.” Kyle smiled and stood, heading over to check on the horses. 

Mentally, Stan gave himself a whack on the head.

He too decided to stand, following Kyle, not letting him get too far from sight.

Kyle ran his finger through champaign mane, then through amber. “Are you two ready to move forward? There are many wonders that await us.”

Stan pet Spartacus firmly. “I think they are. Shall we continue?”

With a nod, Kyle tugged at the reigns, guiding Willzyx over the creek. Stan did the same.

The further into the forest they went, the more beautiful it seemed to become. Life grew unrestricted, overflowing the land. Colors exploded at intervals, decorating the green land with unexpected jewels. There were many plants that Stan had never laid eyes on before, and they brought him a child-like excitement. Flowers peaked their innocent heads out from behind trees and bushes, glowing blue stars, pastel purple buds, sun-kissed blossoms.

Knowing he should leave the flowers alone, Stan resisted the temptation to pick them: he wanted to smell them, hold them, arrange them in an unnatural display.

“They’re gorgeous.” He said instead.

Kyle hummed, swooping his gaze in every direction. “Yes, it all is.” He looked to Stan, “What part of it are you referring to?”

“The flowers.” His face heated up. He felt more childish than he previously did.

Another hum. “That they are. They have special meanings to them.”

As they continued through the forest, Kyle pointed out the different types of flowers, naming them accordingly, and providing their meaning and potential properties. The blue stars were _elandias_ , and represented the beginning of a new life; _aucca_ were the purple buds, symbolized healing, and were used to treat cuts; the sun-kissed blossoms were _redaria,_ and meant commitment. A vast number of flowers were all over the forest, and Stan was unable to remember them all; he was amazed that Kyle could. _Serefae,_ a teal flower that symbolized blessings for the future; _lanera,_ a white flower that symbolized hope, and was used to treat burns; _kiraia,_ a red flower that symbolized prosperity and peace, and was used to treat pain

Most of the plants within the Elven Forest were edible, yet it was preferred to not disturb the peace. Yet, as time went on, both Stan and Kyle found the idea very tempting. The thickness of the canopy prevented them from knowing the time, but they assumed it was a bit past mid-day.

The horses seemed to be getting restless as well.

“Kyle, we should stop and rest. I hate to admit it, but I am famished. May we sit and eat?”

“Yes, of course. I was thinking the same. Believe it or not, I can hear water flowing once more. We should stop there, and allow the horses to drink, as should we.”

Unlike the previous brook, the new body of water flowed stronger, taking with it a stronger stream: the brook must have steamed from it. Stones surrounded the creek, and a large clearing around the creek offered a clean view of the sky, still bright, but slowly growing warm in color. The lighting cast the scenery in a cordial glow, and several birds danced in the sun’s rays.

The horses were once again released, free to drink the flowing water and eat any nearby vegetation. Stan went through a knapsack, taking out wrapped slices of bread, grains, and vegetables. The two sat atop of cloth, basking in the sun’s light, feeling the subtle spray of water in the air.

“Beautiful.”

A bird fed her nestlings settled on a branch, peering over the creek and the two sitting beside it. She carefully gave them their food, ensuring they all got their fair share. A male bird joined the group shortly, and began to sing a gorgeous melody, one for all to hear.

The mother bird joined him, harmonizing, and intensifying the tune.

After their short meal, Stan and Kyle remained as they were, taking in their surroundings in silence. The birds’ concert slowly faded as the birds cuddled their young. Kyle sat with his feet stretched out towards the creek, softly moving them side to side. Growing impatient, he stood, kicking off his boots, and dipping his feet into the water.

Stan was shocked.

He did not expect that.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious? I am soaking in the cool water. Join me. It feels absolutely amazing.”

Stan shook his head with a chuckle, and decided to do the same. The creek water was cold, crisp, and numbed his feet. Once his feet adjusted to the sudden change in temperature, he was able to feel the massaging flow of the water, the smooth stones beneath him, and felt the occasional debris crash against his ankles.

Another chuckle. “You are such a child.”

Kyle grinned. “Well, a childhood short lived is one bound to return.”

He waded deeper into the creek, his trousers quickly absorbing the current. By the time he was knee deep, Kyle turned to Stan, bearing a wide grin.

“Come, Marshlands! Join me in this submersion in the creek!”

Stan laughed joyously. “Forgive me, but I do not think water and armor mix well, especially leather. Petuski would have my head should he know what happened to his masterpiece.”

“Such a poor excuse the charlatan knight _gives_! Afraid of a bit of water? How can he _ever hope_ to protect his beloved king?”

Dramatically, Kyle placed his hands atop of his chest.

Without meaning to, Stan burst into a fit of laughter, nearly losing his balance several times.

Kyle puffed his chest out and smirked, watching a hysterical Stan, and feeling a chuckle rise in his chest.

Catching his breath, and blowing out a strong exhale, Stan turned and walked out of the creek. Kyle, in turn, felt his joy slip away.

Standing near their discarded boots, Stan fumbled with the straps of his poleyn, placing them neatly besides the boots. The belt followed shortly after, and then his suede and leather leg coverings.

Free of his armor, Stan went back to the creek, going to where Kyle stood.

Grinning with his hands at his hips, Stan leaned down towards Kyle, a smug grin at his lips. “Consider the creek conquered, and the king saved.”

Kyle’s mouth felt numb. He stumbled back and away from Stan.

“I… should have thought to remove my trousers beforehand, as well. They are beginning to feel very uncomfortable.” He avoided eye contact.

Noticing Kyle’s bashful demeanor, Stan felt his face heat up.

“Oh, Sanctum—Kyle, forgive me for this. I know not what became of me, but such behavior is uncalled for and inappropriate.”

Shaking his head, Kyle looked to Stan. “I am the one to offer an apology. Had I not initiated such childish behavior, none of this would have occurred.” He smiled. “Regardless, I find this very amusing.”

Stan felt his face heat up more.

Releasing his previous chuckle in a breath, Kyle started walking out of the creek.

“Shall we dry ourselves?”

Sitting on the rock shore, Stan and Kyle wiped away the water with some of their packed cloths. Kyle, unfortunately, had to wear his soaked trousers until they dried. He refused to remove them, and the two were both too flustered over Stan’s undressing to think about it.

Although he had removed his lower body armor, Stan had difficulties putting it back on. Wet skin and leather do not mix well, he noted.

As the sun lowered, the cordial glow intensified, bringing with it a natural serenity and intimacy. Occasionally, a deer or some other animal would walk up to the creek, drink from it, study the party sitting on the rocks, then leave. They made no sound, but left a wonderous impact on those who witnessed them.

“This reminds me of my childhood: being exposed to animals and nature.” Nostalgia and sadness painted itself onto Stan’s face, contrasting with the atmosphere.

“Oh? Please, continue. I would like to hear about this.” A saccharine smile place itself onto Kyle’s lips.

“Well, there is not much to tell. I lived in the forest with my parents. Being isolated yet exposed, I saw many things that delighted a child: deer, birds, wolves, and the like. I saw flowers bloom, trees grow, and clouds walk through the sky. It was beautiful, really, and a much simpler time.”

A hum and a nod. Kyle did not know how to respond to Stan’s words: he grew up in the palace, visiting a few villages occasionally, but unable to socialize with the citizens.

“With me, it was all etiquette. I knew little outside of the palace, and yearned for its reverence. I know not the reason, but perhaps the king and queen had their own fears.”

“We can both agree that times have changed, and that the past is no more. All we can do it move forward, and appreciate that which we have now.”

“Yes… and I do know of one thing now that brings me immense joy, one that could have never been in the past.”

“And that is?”

“Oh, Stan, do not be so dense. ‘Tis you, my knight.”

At a loss of words, Stan simply gazed into Kyle’s eyes, who mirrored his actions. Sitting in silence, the two were inseparable, surrounded by the landscape. They felt each other drawing closer, the nearness of each other unnatural.

Darker and deeper the glow from the sun became, losing its intimacy.

Stan wished to tell Kyle he felt the same way, that their days together brought him peace and glee, a bright light in his mundane existence.

“I—we should return to the palace. We promised to be back before sunset.”

Stan could not believe the words that came out of his mouth, and almost thought he imagined them, but Kyle nodded.

“This would be our last time out, should we break our word.”

Stan stood, then held his hands out to help Kyle. He pulled him up to his feet quickly, though his trousers were still soaked. Kyle could not comfortably wear his boots. He led the horses back to Kyle, allowing him easy access to them without further dirtying himself.

They strapped his boots to the saddle, then readied themselves to leave.

With the dimming of the light, navigating the forest became much more troublesome. Visibility was thwarted during the day, and now proved next to non-existent.

“Kyle, we have to get out of here fast.”

“What if—” A pause. “We race to the palace?”

“You want to race?” Asked Stan, appalled. 

Stan could barely see Kyle nod in the dark forest.

“Our friends have rested a long time, and the palace is not too far from here.” A smile was audible in his voice.

Stan felt himself smile as well.

“Very well, then, my king.” Without hesitation, he tightened the reigns and urged the horse to run.

From a distance, he heard Kyle call out then laugh, the sound of a running horse following soon after. With the lowering of the sun, not only were Stan and Kyle racing each other, but time. They both wanted to make it back to the palace before dark.

They needed to be able to go on another outing together, more than they needed this first one.

If they beat the setting of the sun, it did not matter who of the two made it first.

Faster they urged their horses, anticipation, excitement, and fear coursing through their veins. The wind pushed through their hair, whistling in their ears. What took them most of the day to cross was accomplished in a few minutes with the speeding horses.

It made their adventure feel minor, but not insignificant.

Gone were the flowers they saw blooming, a remnant of the past. Stan wondered when they rode past them, as well as the creek. Were they still there? Did they miss them, or simply went through a different route? He wondered if they would ever see them again.

Before he knew it, Kyle appeared next to Stan, wearing a smirk. The two rode out of the forest, the palace in sight, but at a distance away.

The sun’s light shone brightly against the towers and walls.

Stan could feel Spartacus beginning to tire, and eased on the reigns slightly. He did not mind losing the race, for it seemed like they had a lot more time than they expected. It must have seemed later due to the trees blocking out the light, he thought.

Kyle sped ahead, and Stan watched as the palace’s hill began. He smiled to himself, and hoped Kyle was enjoying himself.

Now in the lead, Kyle grinned widely. He would not let Stan win, and was grateful that Willzyx powered through their ride. With the ascension came the inevitable slowing of the horses, but Kyle encouraged Willzyx, which ultimately lead him to reaching the palace gates quickly, Stan trailing behind.

“Your king has arrived, and he has won.” He beamed.

Stan chuckled. “Your knight has arrived, far behind his king that deserved this victory.”

The two laughed, and Stan swung his leg over the saddle. Kyle did the same, but remained on the horse.

Ike walked out the gates, fuming.

“You gave me your word that you two would return by sunset.”

Kyle pouted. “And we did. See? The sun has not yet set. Therefore, we returned before the sun’s set.”

A toothy grin from Kyle, and a snicker from Stan.

Ike groaned, then helped the two unpack and settle back into the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, fellas! You guys had NO IDEA how excited I was for this chapter!!! I was going to make art for it, but unfortunately didn't finish it. I posted the line-art on my Twitter, but there is no color haha (blame that IDV brainrot). I'll get to it eventually! How'd you guys feel about Stan undressing HAHA. I was so close to taking that part out, but my beloved senpai convinced me otherwise uwu That was my attempt at being funny. I gotta stop making these notes so long. Anyways, glad to be back, and thank you for reading! Take care~ uwu


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom Chapters 7 and 8

Quickly were the inhabitants of the palace, rushing from one room to another, carrying with them tableware, chairs, cloths, and the sort. Stan and Kyle had walked out of the throne room to the chaos. Out of place and confused, they stood there, watching the dashing workers.

Kyle had called out to a woman dressed in green.

“Pardon me, but what is this?”

She curtsied deeply, keeping her eyes down as she spoke.

“There is to be a dinner tonight in the dining hall. I know not the reason, simply that it is to be. I hope the answer is to your liking, my king.”

Kyle nodded and dismissed the woman, who quickly joined the flow of workers.

He turned to Stan, giving him an uneasy shrug.

Stan snickered, and gave a shrug of his own.

They decided to go up the stairs, and spend the rest of the afternoon in the library, but were quickly stopped by a couple at the foot of the stairs.

“My king, may you come with me?” Said the woman.

“And you, Marshlands, with me?” Said the man.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a glance.

“I believe it is time for us to part ways, my fair knight. I shall see you once again at sundown.” A grin, and Kyle went up the stairs with the woman.

The man turned to Stan, his thin hair swooping to his right side.

“Come with me. There is a bathhouse where you may washup. There will be a change of clothes for you, and your armor will be taken to your quarters. My name is Nelson, and I am at your command.”

* * *

Kyle had the routine memorized: go to his quarters, undress, and sit in the tub while someone washed his hair. He was more than capable of doing it himself, but they insisted on aiding him with every single task.

The water smelt of rosemary, and had a gleam to it. He rather liked taking baths, but knew the difficulties of taking water up the many flights of stairs. He always thanked those who set-up his baths, as well as those who helped him.

Once washed, he stepped out of the tub, dried off, and entered the main chambers, where a fresh outfit lay arranged on the bed. Dressing was one of the tasks he was thankful to have assistance with. Some of his garments had many laces, or were simply difficult to put on. For the dinner, he found deep brown trousers, ankle-high boots, an ivory shirt, and brown robe laced with golden patterns.

“Is the arrangement to your liking, my king?” The woman asked, her black curls in a neat arrangement.

“Yes, it is fine. Thank you, Jenny. May you aid me?”

He hoped Stan was doing all right. 

* * *

Stan felt uncomfortable. He had never been in a public bathhouse, and was glad to be the only one there, other than Nelson. No one had ever helped him with bathing before, and he wanted to be left alone.

He wondered if Kyle received the same treatment, and how he felt about it.

_Well of course he is. Poor Kyle._

After his uncomfortable and cold bath, Stan dressed into the clothes they provided for him. A white shirt, black trousers, and dark brown shoes stared at him. It looked incredibly nice, and Stan felt guilt welling up in his stomach.

He took the shirt in his hands. The smooth and silky fabric felt like liquid, and he nearly dropped it.

“Do you not like it, sir?”

Stan looked to Nelson. “No, I do. Thank you, Nelson. This is more than I could have asked for.” 

* * *

Ike scratched his right jaw. Why did the dinner have to take place when Erendriel was on high alert? Danger slowly crept closer, and he needed every available guard to be on alert. With the dinner, everyone in the palace was to attend, save for a few guards at the door.

He did not know the reason for the dinner, and he did not care. All that mattered to him was keeping his family and king safe: everything else came after that.

With a groan, he started removing his armor, placing it carefully in a chest at the foot of his bed. Replacing his usual armor would be a slate grey shirt and black trousers. It had been too long since he dressed casually, and the clothes felt foreign on his body. Splashing water on his hair and combing it with his fingers, he went out to join his family.

* * *

Karen placed a bowl at a seat on the main dining table. She smiled to herself, for the preparations had been complete, and it was now time for her to wash up and get dressed. Walking towards her quarters, she felt giddy and excited for the dinner. The summer solstice and blooming of the magnolia trees do not always happen on the same day.

The two events foretold prosperity and growth.

They had to celebrate while they still had the chance. 

On her way to her quarters, Karen walked into Ike. She smiled, and he returned the gesture.

“It’s been so long since you’ve worn clothes.”

He chuckled, and took her hands in his.

“I am not doing this willingly. Have your fun while it lasts.”

“Believe me, I will. This evening will be incredible. I’m glad you are to be a part of it.”

* * *

Once the sun had set, the lanterns were lit within the dining hall. There were many stretching tables covered with cloth, utensils, and food. The far wall of the hall was replaced with windows, offering an exquisite view of the forest. A patio stood behind the windows.

Kyle sat at the head of the main table, with Stan to his left, and Ike to his right; Karen sat to Ike’s right.

While dinning, everyone spoke amongst each other. Music, voices, laughter, and the clatter of silverware filled the air, buzzing and warm from the energy and summer heat. Conversations within the hall ranged from personal lives, the palace life, how things were before the war, and so on. Though sparse, Kyle too joined in on the conversation whenever appropriate. He would make small comments, remaining poised and elegant. Stan admired and watched, though he could practically hear a snarky comment making its way out.

The snarky comment never came, but Stan watched all the same.

Even through the heated and lively air, Stan could not help but feel out of place. Though they were friendly, no one had spoken to him directly.

He was isolated, placed at the center of a hive with a barrier surrounding him.

He was an outsider, a foreign and untrusted foe thrust within a community.

The different conversations blended and merged, becoming one single buzz. He did not know when, but Stan found himself looking down to his lap. The room felt hot and humid, and his head was pounding. As casually as he could, he stood, and walked out to the patio.

Facing nothing but the forest, Stan could breathe. The buzz from the hall quieted down, and the cool air gave him peace. He crossed his arms over the railing, leaned against it, and closed his eyes, taking in the night breeze.

“Not feeling well?”

Stan opened his eyes, surprised to hear a voice. Footsteps soon followed, then stopped next to him.

“The room was too crowded and loud. I needed a break. I apologize if I removed you from your conversation and enjoyment.”

“Stan,” Kyle leaned against the railing as Stan did, “Enough with the apologies. Every minor action you do is met with an apology.”

Emerald eyes peered up at Stan.

“It happens when I am nervous, upset, or guilty, more than anything.”

“And are you feeling that way?”

Stan sighed, and looked up to the night sky. It was bright, dotted with an unknown number of stars.

“There is no need to burden you with this.”

Kyle stared Stan up and down.

“I trust you. Please, trust me.”

Another sigh, and his gaze fell to his folded hands.

“The others are kind, but I cannot help but feel that I am an outsider. They welcomed me, but I am out of place. Do they know of my bloodline? Am I truly welcomed here? Do they have some sort of enmity towards me? I have all these thoughts running through my mind, and it brings me unease. I feel them waiting, waiting for an opportunity to be rid of me. I am _the enemy_ of this war.”

“There is no malcontent here, and there is no need to fear. No one wishes to do you harm, nor be rid of you. You are no enemy. I am the _only_ one to know the truth of your roots, and I would never dare to tell another soul. I hope I am deemed worthy of your trust, as I have given you my own. In the hall, I noted that no one had spoken with you. Is that the cause for your concern? The same happens with me. It cannot be helped: when there is someone unfamiliar and new, it is difficult to spark up a conversation.”

Kyle gave Stan a soft smile. “You have to give them time to warm up to you. You are acquaintances now, but will be family in due time. Please, be patient. Forget not, but you do have someone that speaks with you freely and spends his days with you.”

His smile grew, eyes shining in the low light.

Stan let out a breathy snicker. He remembered the anxieties of his first night, and could not believe he ever doubted Kyle.

“Negligent am I to forget one so honorable. You have my trust. Thank you, Kyle.”

A cheerful nod. “I understand if you need time to collect yourself, and I am willing to wait with you, but we cannot spend the entirety of the night out here.”

“Ah, yes, for what misdeeds could we hope to accomplish?” Stan giggled.

Kyle beamed.

“The worst of them.”

Stan smiled up at the stars. Kyle’s bare words and presence helped to ease his anxieties, yet they were not diminished. In due time they would cease. For now, it was enough to enjoy the night.

He turned back towards the large group. “Now, shall we return to the dinner?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixed feelings about this one haha (lame "angst"). Yes, Ike x Karen. They'll have their moments, but it won't be a major point in the story. Thanks for reading. Take care uwu


	9. Chapter 9

Out of all the things Stan expected to do at the palace, sparring did not make the list. The Eldritch had found him in the library with Kyle, and urged him to go with them. Kyle had given Stan a small but firm nod, giving Stan permission while he remained in the library. Again he had found himself in the courtyard, facing the three warrior, and breaking his word to Cotswold. This time around, they had decided to go one-on-one.

Henrietta took her place as Stan’s first opponent.

Their wooden swords had been replaced with dull swords that would not cut, but could bruise and break bones.

Cotswolds would not be happy if things got too rough.

Stan took his stance, adrenaline coursing through his veins. It would be the first time he fought with armor, and he felt more than ready.

“Your pretty little skin won’t do much against me.” She smiled devilishly.

“May I remind you I am at full strength? If you found our first match difficult, be ready for this.”

Henrietta—as the previous time—was the first to make her move. She dashed towards Stan, sword in mid-swing, guiding it up, around, then down.

Stan pivoted his foot, holding up his sword to parry the attack.

The clash of metal against metal rang through the courtyard, the vibrations in Stan’s bones. His gloves absorbed some of the blow, but not enough.

Skidding backwards, Henrietta hopped from foot to foot. She looked determined, fired up. She would not lose.

Stan knew it was best to wait before attacking, but he wanted to end the fight quickly.

He ran towards Henrietta, mimicking her side-to-side motion, and went with a swing.

Anticipating his actions, Henrietta held her blade up.

Stan spun, swinging his sword back around, only to have it strike metal.

Pulling her sword up, Henrietta nearly struck Stan’s head.

He dodged at the very last second.

Going low to the ground, he tried to pierce Henrietta in the gut.

She swung her head back, leaning away from the tip of the blade.

With her balance off, Stan spun on his heels, kicking her ankles, and brought the heavy blade down onto her chest.

Her momentum increased with the blow, and Henrietta was suddenly on her back, the courtyard spinning out of control.

Stan stood above her, panting slightly, then helped her to her feet.

“That was a lucky hit.”

“Yet it brought me to victory.” He smirked.

Henrietta huffed and hobbled towards the amphitheater. His next opponent, Michael, made his way to Stan, getting into a fighting stance.

* * *

Quiet and motionless lay the library, the only breath coming from Kyle. He sat with his back in the sun’s rays, reading books and jotting down some notes. Malkinson’s retelling of the origins of Erendriel had sparked a new interest in him, one regarding the Tree of Sanctum’s magic. Surely there should be solid knowledge on the matter.

Yet he had found close to nothing since he started that morning.

Malkinson could have not been the only scholar studying the Tree of Sanctum or the magic coursing through the land, but the books proved otherwise.

He refused to accept defeat, continuing to read the books. All he needed was a starting point, and he would be on his way to finding what he wanted.

With the warming of the sun, he felt his lids heavy, and the words started blurring together. Kyle lowered his head, crossed arms underneath it. His mind swam with possibilities, wanting to continue his search, but his dropping eyes prevented him from doing so.

* * *

Swing, parry, spin. The pattern repeated, altered, and continued.

Michael stood taller than Stan, making him a larger target, but he proved agile, avoiding Stan’s attacks. He delivered his own, quick and precise.

Stan had more than a few close calls, the sword far too close for comfort.

Dodge left, dodge right, jump back.

He felt his breath coming harder, and the day’s fights were not nearly over.

Swing left, swing right, strike down.

“Petty follower—” Michael swung towards Stan’s shoulder, who blocked it.

The two stood, unmoving, forcing the other to break.

“Where is that spark from the other day? The fire and will to fight? Your strength leaves you without your audience.” He smirked, and shoved Stan.

Losing his balance, Stan fell back, yet quickly flipped himself over into a low guard.

Michael laughed, and ran to kick Stan.

Quickly he brought up his sword to block the kick. 

Anticipating the action, Michael swung his sword, full force, to Stan’s unguarded side.

Breath caught in his chest, Stan’s body reacted, and he pushed himself forward, into Michael’s abdomen.

He barely missed the strike, and incidentally struck his opponent, bringing him to his knees.

Gasping for air, Michael held up a hand in surrender.

Stan stood, wiping the sweat from his brow. His breath came out heavy, and his shoulders shook in the slightest.

Henrietta walked over to Michael, helping him to his feet and onto the amphitheater. Alas came the final opponent, the young Firkle. Though he felt confident, fatigue teased Stan’s muscles, and his previous adrenaline had long since started fading.

“Tired, are we?”

Stan shook his head, drawing his sword. “Ready when you are.”

Firkle spun his sword casually, cutting through the air before getting into position. Similar to his comrades, he was the one to strike first.

Unlike the others, Firkle was all speed and little strength.

Under normal circumstances, the fight should have ended quickly, but Stan’s movements proved slower than usual. 

The strikes were too close, and there were a few occasions where Firkle’s sword just barely made contact with the armor.

Bombarded by his opponent, Stan could not find an opening to attack. All he could do was dodge, and wait for Firkle to stumble.

Instead of slowing, Firkle seemed to get faster as time went on.

Stan had to act before it was too late.

He blocked an attack, spinning towards his left, bringing himself to Firkle’s side, elbowing him in the ribs.

Firkle coughed, but turned his attacks to his right.

Stan stepped out of reach of the first strike, bringing his sword heavily atop of Firkle’s.

The clash echoed past the courtyard.

Stunned, Firkle could not react to Stan’s next attack. He shifted behind Firkle and kicked his feet out from under him.

Firkle fell on his back, sword clattering against the ground.

Stan stood above him, panting and dripping in sweat. He offered his hand, but Firkle slapped it away.

Henrietta and Michael joined them, forming a weak barrier between Firkle and Stan.

“Well,” Henrietta started, “That marks two.”

Michael scoffed. “Without his highness, you were sluggish but rough.”

“You got lucky, follower.” Firkle rubbed the back of his head.

“We all agreed to spar, did we not? Take your losses, Eldritch.” Stan smiled. “I enjoyed myself, and you all proved to be even greater opponents than the first time around.”

“Yes, well, that was quite the way to spend our last day at the palace.”

Stan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Michael ran a hand through his thick curls. “We’re being sent out to the front lines. There has been talk of the humans drawing close to our borders, and we need to fight them off.”

“They shouldn’t have made it this far. The forest is _supposed_ to protect us.” Henrietta picked at her nails.

“Unless there is someone helping them in.”

Stan’s throbbing and aching muscles tensed.

Firkle stepped forward. “What kind of elf would do that to their own brethren and people?”

“What if it’s not an elf?” Henrietta and Michael said in unison.

Stan’s chest felt tight.

“You mean a human? Here? In Erendriel? There is no possible way that could happen.”

“See, if I were them—and thank Sanctum I’m not—I would send someone to help from the inside, “Michael started, “Scout the area, see what is worth saving and what is not.”

“Do you really think those vile humans are smart enough for that?” Henrietta put her hands to her hips.

Michael hummed. “I suppose you have a point.”

“Regardless, if I ever find a human, I’ll strike them down where they stand.” Firkle puffed out his chest.

Stan’s mind was racing.

“Though, you can’t deny how great of a strategy that is. The human could snuggle in close, be right under our noses.”

“If they take our king, they take everything. The war is won.”

He could not breathe.

“I apologize, but I must get back to king Erendriel’s side. I thank you all for this, once again, and wish you well on the front lines. When this is all over, I hope we can see each other again.”

Before the Eldritch could answer, Stan took off in a sprint back into the palace.

His run through the palace did little to quiet his mind. Could Kyle have been wrong in saying he would be accepted as he was? The Eldritch—though a harsh crew—were loyal to the crown, and would do anything to protect their home and fellow elves.

Would they strike him down without hesitation should they learn of his bloodline? Would all the other palace residents have the same violent reaction? What if he was not the only human in Erendriel?

What if someone was after Kyle?

He could never let him out of his sight again.

He needed to protect him no matter the cost.

A few workers had greeted Stan on his trek through the palace, but he paid them no mind. Through his running thoughts and anxieties, his only focus was on Kyle. He could ignore any hate directed towards him, but could not live with himself if anything happened to Kyle.

Stan ran through the library, skidding to a halt at the table he sat at earlier. His head was pounding, breaths coming out in wheezes. The sight before him eased his worries.

Kyle slept with his head cradled in his arms. His breaths were quiet and gentle, sunlight reflecting graciously off his weaved circlet. He looked at peace, pure, and untouchable. Stan felt his knees weaken, blaming it on the spars and run; he nearly toppled over, catching himself on the table.

He did not know how long Kyle had been there, and he felt a conflict swell up in his chest: Stan wanted Kyle to continue sleeping, but he also wanted him to wake up. If he woke up, Stan could keep watch and talk with him. If he slept, Stan could also keep watch over him, and see him in a tranquil slumber.

Would it be considered rude to awaken a king? Would the fact that he slept in the middle of a library change the answer?

Stan did not want to wake Kyle, but he was beginning to think he had no choice.

He cleared his throat. “Kyle?”

With a deep inhale, Kyle stirred.

“Kyle, you fell asleep in the library.”

Emerald eyes fluttered, and he took up his surroundings. With a jolt, Kyle stood up stiffly.

“Oh, Sanctum, that was _not_ supposed to happen.” His face heated up.

Stan grinned. “Such behavior is not proper for a king,” he teased.

Though groggy, Kyle shot Stan a glare, who gave him a chuckle in return.

Kyle could not help but smile. He was glad that Stan woke him, and hoped he was the only one who saw him sleeping.

“Did the Eldritch treat you fairly?”

Stan smirked, and took the chair across from Kyle. “Hardly, but I came out victorious.”

A congratulatory smile. 

A small pause followed.

“They are being sent to battle.”

“Oh.” Kyle looked to his hands.

Neither of them spoke for some time, tension hanging in the air. They had not forgotten about the war, nor had they chosen to ignore it; it loomed above them, ever-present but invisible.

“Well, they are a force to be reckoned with. I am sure—”

“Your highness,” a stranger walked towards the two, bowing deeply before Kyle. “My king, I wish your day is well, and ask Sanctum to grant you health and prosperity. I come from the city of Evahyl, bearing a message.”

They pulled a letter out from their messenger bag, holding it out to Kyle. The envelope glittered, and had a faint transparency to it. A golden wax seal locked it, the emblem one unfamiliar to Stan.

Kyle took the letter with both hands, and the messenger said their farewells. Once they left the library, Kyle opened the letter, pulling out an elegant parchment covered in bronze calligraphy. As he read, his expression grew stern.

Stan felt his throat tighten.

“Kyle? Are you all right? Is there something the matter?”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pressed the parchment to the table.

“A meeting has been called in Evahyl. The four leaders of Erendriel and myself are to attend. The matters of the meeting is regarding the war.”

Stan did not know if that was a good or bad answer.

"All right. When is this meeting?”

“I am to be in Evahyl overmorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's best boy Stan's birthday today owo  
> Let's give him all the love!!!!  
> Thanks for reading. Take care uwu


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom Chapters 10 and 11

News of the meeting in Evahyl spread through the palace, and preparations were being made. Kyle received the letter two days before it took place, and now, a mere day prior, everything had to be prepped and set. Stan felt glad knowing he would accompany Kyle on the trip. He called the city of Evahyl his home, and felt a longing towards it.

He missed the open air and buzzing streets, the sights and community.

Ike had taken Kyle in the early afternoon, saying they had important and confidential information to share and tasks to complete. Hours had passed, and there was no sign of Ike, and therefore no sign of Kyle.

Stan groaned as he roamed the halls. _Important information my—_

“Stan!” Karen approached him, smiling brightly. The sun caught on her brown hair, and illuminated her blue eyes.

“May I ask what you have been doing on this fine day?”

Stan liked Karen. She was incredibly kind and considerate, and had a motherly quality to her.

“Without a king to guard, what is there for me to do? To answer your question, I have done naught, but roam the halls in hopes for an opportunity to present itself.”

If it were possible, Karen’s smile brightened. “Well, I believe one has presented itself now.” She held her arms out to her sides, her smile turning into a smug grin.

Smirking, Stan went to her side. She beamed, and led him in the direction she had come from.

“Ike had told me he was to spend the day with the king. I know not what they are to do, but am sure they will be equally famished. Midday has passed, and neither of them has eaten.” She pouted softly.

It took Stan a couple of seconds to understand what Karen meant.

“And you want me to help you cook for them?”

“Oh, but of course. We seem to be some of the few without the task of preparing for tomorrow’s trip, and the others are more than able to prepare their own meals. It may sound harsh, but we will only be able to do so much.”

Stan hummed, and found himself standing before the kitchen doors. Karen pushed them open, revealing an extensive room filled with stoves, ovens, and a plethora of cooking utensils.

“Now,” she turned to Stan, “Are you familiar with culinary?”

He nodded, telling Karen of his past experiences and former teacher. She nodded slowly in response, her eyes holding a glimmer of sadness to them, but it faded after she blinked. Turning to a stove, Karen told Stan to gather all necessary ingredients for the dish.

* * *

“Again.” Ike stood on the defensive, wooden sword held out in front of him.

Kyle ran towards him, swinging with all his might, sword bouncing back and knocking him off his balance.

“Again, king Erendriel.”

Steadying himself, Kyle threw down the wooden sword with a huff. “We have been at this for some time. The sun is beating down hard. I am exhausted, covered in sweat, and am expected to be the perfect warrior with a weapon I am hardly familiar with!”

Ike sighed and stood up, putting down his sword. “King Erendriel, a rapier is not much different from a sword. The shape may differ, and the function slightly, but a weapon is a weapon, and you would do well to excel with all.”

“I am not a soldier; I am not you; I am not Stan.”

“And if there is no one there to protect you? Then what? Then what, Kyle?” Ike snapped his name.

Kyle flinched, drawn aback.

Groaning, Ike rubbed his eyes.

“I apologize for that, my king. It seems this heat has gotten to me, as well. May I suggest we take a rest? We can continue the training in a moment.”

They turned, and went to sit under the trellis overhang.

Several minutes passed before either of them spoke.

Clearing his throat, Ike broke the silence.

“My king, I apologize for my sudden outburst, but the question still stands. We are at war, and war is relentless. We have yet to feel the full extent of it, but that does not mean we will remain in this false safety. Is that not why you are to attend the meeting tomorrow? To discuss the war?

“And what, then, are you to do when it comes to us? There is no guarantee that all our lives will be spared. In the worst-case scenario, you need to be able to protect yourself: you will need to use whatever tool is at your disposal, and fight off the enemy.”

“I know that.” A long pause. “Yet I cannot stand the thought. You are all precious to me, and the thought of any of our people getting hurt or dying pains me.”

“Then we must end this war quickly.”

Kyle looked through the pockets of the trellis. “That we must.”

* * *

“No, Stan, stop!” Karen laughed as flour plumed through the air.

Stan burst out in a fit of laughter. It had been too long since he cooked, and even longer since he had baked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Flour is tricky, and it decided it all wanted to be mixed in.” His hair greyed with the flour.

“It’s okay. Here—” she handed him a wet rag, “Clean yourself off. There’s still a lot to do.”

The stovetop held various pots and pans, all containing simmering contents. Strong aromas filled the air, and stuck to their skin. The heat from the stove and oven encouraged light perspiration from the two.

Still, the two enjoyed themselves, getting to know each other, warming up and familiarizing themselves.

“Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in years.” Karen smiled. “Things have been so serious as of late, and Ike has been on edge constantly.”

“Well, it’s practically his job to be alert and bossy.”

“Yes, but even when he’s off he acts that way. He hasn’t been the same since—well, it’s best not to talk of that.”

“Do you spend a lot time with him?”

“Of course. He is my beloved, after all.”

Stan stopped cleaning himself off and looked at Karen.

Karen laughed and mixed some of the food.

_How is that possible?_

Ike, the tall, rough, and authoritative chief of the guards; the main person that gave Stan unease in the palace due to his brooding nature; the one who had so much authority, his presence gave off a sense of claustrophobia.

Karen, the fair, beautiful, and loving head handmaiden; one of the most welcoming person Stan has met; the one who smiled at everyone, going to their side and aiding them in whatever they may need, no matter the cost.

Ike and Karen, two completely different people, and they were wedded?

“Is it really so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Stan answered almost immediately.

Karen chuckled as she mixed the pan farthest from Stan.

“Well, he wasn’t always like this. We were young, careless, free, and we were in love. Believe it or not, your chief over there was quite the reckless man, and would ignore his responsibilities in favor of enjoying the city life. He was forced into becoming a guard, by his father. No one could get a hold of Ike, let alone get him to listen.

“For some reason, they thought I would be able to convince him. I had just come to the palace a mere few days before, and my first task was to get him and bring him back.” She paused, then blew out the fire from the stove.

“And then?” Stan put the rag down and turned his attention back to the dough before him.

Surprised, Karen looked to Stan, then giggled.

“And it somehow worked. I don’t know what it was, or what I said, but it must have gotten through to him. I’m thinking it’s more along the lines of him seeing they were so desperate they sent the new girl after him.” She chuckled.

“After that, he worked hard to protect the palace. Of course, there was no danger back then, but he worked anyways, when he wasn’t bothering me. I was trying to do well with my palace duties, and he would not stop following me.” Her laugher rang bright and clear.

Stan felt a small chuckle escape him as he kneaded the dough.

“You might think I’m lying, but he was an incredible romantic.” Karen swooned in the slightest. “I would find flowers on my cot every night for years. Then, he would write to me, the sweetest and most beautiful things I’ve ever read. I kept all the letters he wrote to me, and though he acts embarrassed now, I know he’s warmed by it.” Her smile held all the words she described, sweet and nostalgic.

Stan took in everything she said, hoping to remember it all. He divided the dough into even portions.

“He likes to believe that these things were the reason I fell in love with him, and I don’t tell him otherwise. The moment I fell for him was that first night we met. He was in Evahyl, in the middle of a festival, dancing. He looked so happy, so careless, so _alive._ ”

The food was transferred into dishes, and Stan popped the dough into the oven.

“We were betrothed the night that king Broflovski Erendriel began his reign. It was a glorious night for the palace, filled with celebrations and euphoria. A few years later, we wedded, and here we are now.”

The two took the dishes out of the kitchen and walked towards the dining hall.

“Wow, Karen. Thank you for telling me this. It was really nice of you, and I liked hearing the story.”

Karen grinned. “Of course. Perhaps it gave you inspiration for when you find your beloved?”

Stan felt his face and ears heat up. He kept his gaze down, and could not respond.

“Oh, or is there already someone out there? Tell me, what are they like?”

Again, he could not speak.

“I—well—there isn’t anyone.”

Karen pouted. “A shame, really. You’re a wonderful person, and handsome, too.”

If it were possible, Stan felt himself flush further.

A flash of crimson locks came to mind.

* * *

Panting, Kyle dropped his sword. After their rest, he and Ike resumed their training session.

“Is that enough for today?” He could feel his sore hands blistering.

Ike snickered, though he felt his body aching. When it came down to it, Kyle was more than capable of standing his ground. He remembered when Kyle could barely hold a sword, and grinned at his growth.

“Of course, my king. Are you injured? Allow me to escort you to Cotswolds—”

“Ike, I am unharmed. In truth, I simply want to go back inside the palace and out of this heat.”

_And back with Stan._

Kyle wondered what he had been doing over the course of the day, and hoped he fought off the boredom and isolation. He felt himself begin to frown: Stan held deep anxieties of being welcomed into his home, and spending the day alone would do nothing but strengthen them.

Nodding, Ike gathered their weapons and headed back into the palace, Kyle following him at a distance.

Inside, the previous activities seemed to have died down. It was late afternoon, but the air continued to hold the excitement and energy from the morning, as well as some humidity. Kyle tapped his fingers against his thigh as he walked. There were no signs of anyone, especially not Stan. Ike stopped and stored the wooden weapons in a small room, then the two headed towards the throne room.

“King Erendriel, you must be famished.”

Adrenaline and concern for Stan blocked out his hunger.

“As should you.”

Their voices must have echoed through the hall, as Karen walked out of the dining room to greet them.

Stan stood next to her.

Kyle felt his tension drop.

They exchanged a pleasant smile.

“Now, Ike, the sun is near set, and you have our king without food! Shame on you.”

Kyle saw Stan give a small chuckle into this fist. Karen must have told him about them.

“Yes, I am aware. We were discussing it before you appeared.”

“Well, fortunately, Stan and I cooked a meal for the four of us.”

Kyle’s ears perked up, and he looked to Stan, who held a bashful yet smug grin.

He involuntarily smiled.

Karen led them into the dining hall. Instead of a grand array of tables, there was one in the center of the room, modest in comparison to the previous ones. A simple white cloth dressed the table, and many dishes lay atop of it. There were freshly baked rolls, roasted vegetables, grains, and starches. Though simple, the dishes gave off a wonderous smell.

Elegant rays of the slumbering sun crept through the large windows, swaying as night drew near. The temperate air and intimate setting made the large room serene, and familiar. Kyle had only partaken in banquets with others, but what stood before him was a meal with his family, and Stan. He felt his chest swell, glad to spend the evening with those closest to him. 

Ike sat with his back to the windows, with Karen across from him. Stan and Kyle sat on opposite ends of the small table. They smiled, and distributed the meal amongst themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, bonding, or something. Karen and Ike love story. Mwah.  
> Thanks for reading! Take care uwu


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom Chapters 10 and 11

Their dinner had turned into a conversation, which lasted several hours: night had fallen. Karen and Ike parted ways with Stan and Kyle outside of the dining hall, the servants’ quarters being on the first floor. The two made their way up the stairs, and stopped at the start of the hall on the final floor, the moon’s rays shining softly through a small window. 

“Evahyl is a mere few hours away.” Kyle tapped his fingers against his thigh.

“Indeed. Are you ready?” Stan’s chest felt tight.

Kyle bit his bottom lip. “A complicated question with an equally complicated answer.”

Stan smiled softly. “Kyle, being nervous is all right.” His hand twitched; he wanted to touch Kyle’s arm in reassurance.

A heavy sigh escaped Kyle. “I—”

“King Erendriel?”

Both Stan and Kyle turned to the voice, which came from the direction of Kyle’s chambers. A handmaiden stood in the shadow of the hall, barely illuminated by the moon’s light.

“There is a bath prepared for you in your chambers. If you please, follow me, and I will assist you in bathing.” She bowed, and waited patiently.

Kyle looked to Stan, nervous and uneasy. 

Stan felt his chest tighten.

Kyle kept his voice low, “Wait until she leaves, then knock on my chamber doors. May I ask this of you? There is much I wish to discuss with you.”

“Absolutely, my king.” Stan did not want to risk the handmaiden overhearing, and hoped Kyle understood.

He must have, for he simply nodded, and headed towards his chambers.

Stan stood in the hall for a moment longer. While Kyle bathed, he may as well clean up. He turned, and went into his quarters, changed his clothes, and washed his face with a moist cloth. The door stayed ajar, giving him a clear view of the staircase.

Once he could no longer hear footsteps going down the staircase, Stan stood from his bed, and left his quarters. It dawned on him that he had never seen the king’s chambers, and a giddy excitement filled him. He did not know what Kyle had planned for him, which turned his excitement into solicitude.

Twin doors were stamped onto a shadowed wall, and through the low light, Stan could make out an exquisite design on them. Darkened wood and gold were engraved in the image of a tree and vines.

_The Tree of Sanctum._

Stan stood there, hesitating. Why would Kyle ask him to join him? Was he worthy enough to step foot into his chambers? Did Kyle still want him there?

He inhaled deeply, then tapped his fist against the doors.

Nothing happened. Kyle must have fallen asleep, forgotten about him, or chose to ignore him.

As he started turning to go back his quarters, one of the doors creaked open. Kyle peered between the crack, his face softening when he saw Stan.

“Thank you, Stan.” He opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”

Stan could not believe the chambers that stood before him. He estimated that at least three of his quarters could fit into Kyle’s chambers. A small balcony sat parallel to the entrance; glass doors open, a cool breeze danced with the white curtains. Several of the far walls held large windows, or were completely made of glass. The chamber was doused in a soft blue glow, casting the room in an eerie yet ethereal light. Unused candleholders sat perched against the many and angular walls, each an equal distance from each other.

The tall ceilings rose and fell, furthering the abnormal shape of the chamber, and scarce pillars dotted the layout. Similar to Stan’s quarters, there were plants and flowers arranged throughout the room. The right side of the room led to a washroom, also similar to Stan’s quarters. Furniture, tables, chests, and wardrobes were nestled between plants and pillars. To the left side of the room, an elegant frame with branching corners held up translucent white drapes around the large bed.

Kyle walked to some chairs in front of the balcony, Stan following in awe. They sat, illuminated by the gentle night's light. A breeze pushed Stan’s shirt against his body, and roused Kyle’s drying curls.

He looked younger without his regal regalia, younger and innocent.

“I do not know how to go about this,” Kyle started, “but I wish to express my thoughts and concerns with you, should you allow me.”

“As I have done so with mine, you shall with yours.” He offered the faintest of smiles.

A breath shook Kyle, and it took him a moment to collect his words.

“I fear of the trip that awaits us in the morning. Other than the other day in the forest, I have not left the palace since my youth. I know not how I will react, nor how the people will react. Though, that is not the main source of my worries.”

Stan leaned forward. “You have no need to concern yourself on the reactions of others. They will be ecstatic, honored to be in your presence. I know I was.” He grinned. “Please, continue.”

He hesitated. “The purpose for this meeting; they wish to discuss the war, our status, our strategy. There is an incredible amount of responsibility tied to this, Stan. The lives of all our people—our _family_ —are at stake here. One false move could mean the end of our beloved land, and thus our people. The weight of this is too great for a person of my age and experience, for any person, at that.”

Kyle had his hands folded tightly. The breeze covered it, but Stan could see Kyle's tremulous body. He was afraid, fearing things far greater than himself.

Stan once again wanted to reach out to Kyle for comfort, but held back.

“Kyle, I trust you with my life. The people of Erendriel trust you with theirs. We know you will make the right decisions.”

“That is in part the issue. What if I don’t?” He was slipping.

“I am sure that—”

“What if I am not meant to be king? The power, the status, it means nothing if I cannot support our brethren. I cannot see myself as a legitimate king.”

Gone was the crown, and the true Kyle sat before him.

“Listen to me, okay? You’re an incredible person, someone who will be an even greater king. I know you’ll always do what’s best for the people of Erendriel, because you already do. Their well-being is always on your mind, always your top priority. Can’t you see this? It’s as clear as day to everyone in Erendriel.”

Kyle stared at Stan, his expression unreadable.

Had Stan gone too far? Telling Kyle the truth was one thing, but dropping all formalities showed great disrespect.

“You are the first to speak to me in that manner.” Kyle smiled. “Your words are kind, and I know they hold your truth. Thank you again, Stan, but this is something that cannot be mended with words alone.”

“Then tell me; tell me how I may aid you, Kyle. I am here for you, be it with physical dangers or emotional turmoil. Please, know where my heart stands.”

They sat in the blue light, eyes locked on each other, without the need to exchange words. Wallowing in their silence, their emotions grew and encapsulated the atmosphere around them. Sorrows, trepidations, and the manifestation of something new radiated and pulsed around them. They knew not the significance of such sentiment, yet it warmed them, and melted away their exasperations.

“Will you partake in something with me? I know asking of yet another thing from you is much, but I wish to share this with you.”

“Anything, Kyle.”

Kyle stood, and beckoned Stan to follow him.

They left the chambers, walking further down the hall. Silent and without visibility, Stan felt his heart race. Barely able to sense Kyle, he followed closely behind, nearly touching him. At the end of the hall, Kyle opened a small and single door. The moon’s light flooded out from behind, revealing a small winding staircase.

The silence continued as they climbed up the long, narrow steps.

Small openings offered peek holes at the top, and another door blocked the way. With a long creak, the door swung open. Kyle stepped outside, and Stan’s breath escaped him.

They were on the top of a tower, a wide balcony exposed them to the powerfully crisp night air. The entirety of the palace and Elven Forest were in view, the landscape clear and slumbering. With the wind, Stan saw the Elven Forest dance and come to life, sleepy and graceful. The soft whispers of night offered a different melody from the day, one ethereal and full of peace. Blue veiled the night, calm and radiant.

In the distance, there were faint mountain ranges, and in the opposite direction, the Kingdom.

“Wonderous, is it not?” Kyle broke the silence, his voice bringing warmth to the invigorating night. “It has been too long, my beloved giant.” He smiled to the sapphire sky. “This was my sanctuary, of sorts. When I needed to disconnect from the palace, or from my own unwarranted thoughts, I would stand here for hours, absorbing the nocturnal wonders, and speak my thoughts to the night.”

“I can understand why. It is truly captivating, and holding its own beauty.”

Kyle chuckled, and leaned against a nearby railing. “Yes, it does. The other balconies in the palace cannot begin to compare with this one. Come, and count the stars with me.”

Stan stood next to Kyle, peering up at the sky.

They counted the stars, named the ones they knew, and spoke of their stories. There were tales of mighty warriors, beautiful maidens, delicious meals, and vivacious affections. They smiled at their words, at their hushed voices against the wind. Illuminated by the moon and stars, they found each other sneaking glances while the other spoke of trivial topics. Slowly did they shift against the railing, their arms nearly touching, yet they were able to feel the heat radiating between them. With the mesmerizing song of the night, the world faded into a dream, and they became their only realities.

End of Act II, Familiarity 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying. *You're* crying.  
> AAAAAA I loved this chapter so very much! The Balcony Scene is something from the original I COULD *NOT* take out! Played out differently, but eh haha. Alsooooo... cough cough read chapter two again cough cough I surprised myself with that mwahahaha.  
> Unfortunately a short Act, and thus comes another break. HOWEVER! You can probably guess the direction Act III will head to, hmmmm~? Promise it'll be worth it uwu  
> Thanks for reading, and take care! uwu


	12. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom chapter 12

The previous day’s preparations prevented a chaotic morning, and all materials were set and packed. An olive, brown, and golden carriage stood outside the palace’s main doors; Ike, Karen, and others stood outside to see their king off. The low morning sun did little to warm to chilled air.

Stan waited for Kyle inside the palace. He stood behind the opened doors, out of sight from the waiting company. The cool morning air helped keep Stan alert, for he had spent the night chatting with Kyle. They both knew they had to leave for Evahyl early, yet neglected the time, and spent hours atop the balcony.

He could vaguely recollect the topics they spoke of, and could only remember Kyle’s presence.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he shifted his weight on his feet and wrung his hands together. The night they spent together reminded him of the day in the forest, but there was something else to it, something more. Stan did not care for the fatigue he may have felt the next morning, and simply wanted to stay on that balcony with Kyle. Though, he began to realize, Kyle may have wanted to spend the night alone in bed. He may have been alone with those feelings, and prevented Kyle from resting.

When Kyle walked towards Stan, he looked exhausted, and Stan felt a stab of guilt in his chest. “Good morrow, Stan.” Kyle stopped before him.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

Kyle nodded and hummed. “Sanctum, I do not wish to attend this conference, nor have you burdened with these bland duties. Please, be rid of them for me.” He smiled.

 _I would much rather spend the day with these duties than to be without you._ The words formed on Stan’s tongue, yet he kept silent, and quickly responded with a chuckle. “Apologies, but this is for the people of Erendriel, as well as the land.” He stepped to the side. “Shall we make our way to the carriage? A king must not be late to anything.”

Kyle laughed and followed Stan. “Nothing begins until the king is there. There is no need to worry or rush, for we will make it before it begins.”

Lined on either side of the walkway, guards stood perched and ready. Kyle walked in front, dressed in long yet elegant robes, his circlet and red curls gleaming in the low light. He embodied regality, and the guards bowed as he stepped near them. Stan kept his distance from Kyle, feeling uneasy and out of place, a simple knight in the presence of greatness.

He did not understand Kyle’s trepidations from the previous night.

They stopped before the carriage, Ike looking down at them, Karen beside him.

“My king, I wish you well on your travels. May you return to us safely, with newly acquired knowledge from the council. I have neglected to mention this, but there will be another meeting held tomorrow with some of the army’s generals.”

Kyle’s breath hitched.

“Very well, then. I shall retell of the conference’s content when we return.” He looked to Stan for a split second. “I thank you for your wishes.”

Ike hummed, and looked to Stan. “Marshlands, we are all trusting you to ensure the safety of our beloved king. Evahyl has been known to… have _radicals_ within it. One may never know what they may be planning, nor if they will ever act on their impulses.”

Stan nodded, placing a fist over his heart. “I assure you no harm shall ever befall him.”

Kyle bit his bottom lip, looking between Stan and Ike.

Karen stepped forward. “My king.” She bowed. “May wisdom guide you on this day. I know you will make every decision with the people of Erendriel in your heart. With you there, the best outcome shall surely arise. We all trust you, and thank you for that which you shall do.”

Stan noticed Kyle flinch and tense.

Kyle simply nodded and thanked Karen before stepping inside of the carriage.

Stan followed before exchanging a glance with Ike. They nodded firmly at each other, a mutual understanding of trust between them.

The doors of the carriage shut, enclosing Stan and Kyle in temporary darkness, who sat across from one another. Stan pulled the curtains from either side of them, revealing the windows. Ike, Karen, the guards, and others stood outside of the palace doors, all of them smiling with pride. What Karen had said proved true: they all believed in Kyle, and trusted him with their lives.

Kyle felt his heart swell and his throat tightened when the carriage started moving away from the palace, and towards the capital of Evahyl.

* * *

As the carriage moved through the forest, its elegant sights were blurred into one deep color. On occasion, some flowers, animals, or birds were discernible. The longer the ride lasted, the brighter and warmer the day became. Much of the ride passed in silence, Stan and Kyle trapped in their own thoughts.

Did they need to discuss the events of the previous night?

What did it mean?

Did it mean anything?

Would they spend fond moments with each other again?

Stan ran his fingers along the velvet seats of the carriage, the metallic windowsills, the patterns carved into the curtains. That carriage was more luxurious than the one he rode coming from Evahyl. Back then, he had also spent the ride in silence, thinking of what the palace life had for him. He was filled with pride, as well as fear.

Though he rode with Kyle, the air was noticeably tense. Anxiety rose in his chest once again. He swallowed it down, bouncing his foot quickly. Stan had purposefully turned to look out the window, trying to avoid facing Kyle.

He had no idea what would come out of his mouth if he did.

Kyle bit his lip as he looked at Stan. He did not know if he was angry at him, nor the reason for it. Did he make a mistake taking Stan to the balcony? Did Stan find the entire ordeal trivial and immature? His chest ached. Perhaps venting about the trepidations of being king proved to not be the best course of action, for it was nothing but another burden on Stan.

The air was laced with agitation, and Kyle found it hard to breathe.

He had enjoyed their time together the night before, and hoped Stan did as well. Though, with the silence between them, it seemed as if he had not. Kyle looked outside of the window, away from Stan. How could he be so foolish to believe Stan would want to partake in his childish endeavors? He was the king, and could not afford to have the luxury of pleasure: he needed to protect his people, for they were his main priority.

Of course, Stan was also a part of that group.

He needed to focus. The people came first, and his emotions came last. The war had not ended because he found someone to confide in. War, the large and looming threat to the safety of his people. They had been fortunate to avoid direct consequences of it, but that favor would not last forever. The power coursing through the land could only do so much when it came to protecting them. He needed the war to end as soon as possible.

Kyle knew the people of Erendriel were not in favor of the war, and wanted it to end soon, as well. He did not hate the Kingdom, nor its people, other than their king. Their blasted, cruel, and wicked king brought anguish and misfortune. Kyle brought a hand to his throat, rubbing absently. His chest felt on the verge of collapse.

King Eric Theodore Cartman, the head of the Kingdom. He was responsible for everything: for the death of the elven king and queen, for the war between Erendriel and his kingdom.

Before the war had started, King Broflovski Erendriel had written a treaty, and was more than willing to aid the Kingdom in its time of need. Erendriel had extended its arms in hospitality, but received a cold, armored shoulder.

Kyle was more than willing to present the treaty once again, but knew that knave would never accept it.

He was beyond help, and only wanted power and destruction.

Kyle did not know if he had been that way before the death of his queen.

By the time the carriage entered Evahyl’s limits, the sun shone brightly, signaling midmorning. Stan sat up straighter, attempting to peer into the city itself. His heart raced as his home came into view.

“O how I missed this glorious city.” A nostalgic smile spread on his lips.

Kyle’s stomach clenched.

The carriage slowed as it left the forest and entered the city: bright cobblestone paved the wide road, horseshoes clacking loudly. Thousands of buildings were neatly scattered throughout the winding streets. Most of the buildings were made of a light-colored clay, standing tall, with multiple stories, and strong. There were many flower boxes adorning the windows of the buildings, filled with various plants, herbs, and flowers. Extending from the roads were small centers, many holding dazzling fountains or gardens; birds sang and bathed in the water. Hanging above the roads were ropes, crisscrossed and weaving, carrying small banners and potted plants.

Though earlier in the day, many were out in the streets, ready to begin with their daily routines. Shopkeepers were opening their doors, sweeping, arranging their goods at the windows. A woman and her husband carried baskets of bread and vegetables, and their children ran past them, laughing. As the carriage rode past them, everyone stopped and stared: many of them bowed, but all of them smiled.

The carriage continued to the center of the city, where an extraordinary castle lay surrounded by the large community. Unlike the royal palace, the castle of Evahyl gleamed as if it were made of glass. Its towers were many, tall, sharp, and narrow. The castle appeared to be multiple ivory spears of different lengths bunched together. There were no residents within the castle, for it was mainly for appearances. Though, it doubled as a kingdom center, where the elven council would gather and discuss the issues of the land.

Slowing to a stop, the carriage stationed itself before the castle’s opening. Two guards stood next to it, opening the doors for Kyle.

Kyle exhaled deeply. “And here we are.”

Shaking, he pulled himself out of the carriage, Stan following behind. He nodded to the guards as they passed.

A short but extending staircase lead to the castle entrance. A second pair of guards were perched before the castle’s doors. Kyle stood at the bottom, peering to the far doors. His arms were pressed firmly against his sides, lips pressed together, and brow furrowed.

Stan looked to the guards behind them and ahead of them. They were not staring, but he knew they were paying attention.

He dared to press his fingers on Kyle’s elbow.

Kyle nearly jumped, looking to Stan.

“My king, the council awaits. All will be well. Worry not for the meeting nor the outcome, for I shall remain at your side regardless of what is concluded.” Stan smiled softly, then lowered his hand.

Kyle took in a shaky breath. “I wish it to be that simple. I thank you nonetheless.”

They started up the many and thin steps.

“Halt,” the guard on the right began, “State your name and business.”

Stan and Kyle exchanged a glance.

“I am king Erendriel, accompanied by my knight, Stan of the Marshlands. I was summoned by the elven council, and brought him with me for protection.”

“Prove it,” said the one on the left.

“Pardon?”

“Prove you are the king.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Is that any way to speak to your king?”

Kyle held a hand up. “Very well.” He pulled out the letter for the two guards to see.

They scanned the letter, then immediately dropped on all fours.

“Forgive us, your highness.”

“It has been far too long since anyone has seen you, and we did not recognize your greatness.”

“They ask this of us for all wishing to enter the castle.”

Kyle shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “All is well. I understand the particular protocol with an event such as this.”

The two guards stood, and opened the tall ebony doors. They watched with stern amazement as their king stood before them, and eyed Stan. He felt his stomach drop, but remained attentive to Kyle.

An incredible number of windows brightly illuminated the castle’s creamy interior. The doors opened to a large atrium, where a chandelier hung from the tall, vaulted ceiling, and many red and golden banners hung from the walls, the crest of Erendriel weaved into them. Directly in the center stood an umber table holding an arrangement of flowers. On either side of the atrium stood two directional staircases, turning to the center, where a mezzanine stood high above them.

“My king,” A young elf bowed before the two. “I hope your travels were well and comfortable. If you please, follow me into the conference room.”

They turned on their heels and walked up one of the staircases, Stan and Kyle following behind them. The castle darkened as they treaded deeper into the mezzanine and halls, going up a few more flights of stairs and changing directions often. Finally, they stopped before a pair of opened doors.

The room before them appeared more like a patio, having many angles, with most of the walls replaced by windows. Directly across from the doors were a pair of large open windows. Plants hung from the ceiling, and a single table stood at the patio center. There were five chairs at the table, with the chair on the far side being empty. Four pairs of elder eyes stared at them.

Kyle turned to face Stan, his expression slightly pained. “The time has come. I must ask you to remain outside until the summit concludes. I apologize, for I know not when that shall be.”

Stan nodded, which turned into a small bow. “I understand. There is no need for you to apologize.”

As Stan turned to walk away from the room, he heard Kyle gently call out for him.

“Stan? I thank you for accompanying me.”

The doors were closed, the voices sealed away and muffled. 

* * *

Hours later, the doors reopened, and a fresh gust of wind filled the hall. Stan stood, straight and firm, attentive and ready. One by one, the elven council left the room, Kyle the last one to exit. He looked to Stan, weary and sad. Stan’s chest tightened as he went to Kyle’s side.

“Did it not go well?”

Kyle sighed. “That was an incredibly long meeting, with far too much banter and arguing. I am glad it has ended, but am not at ease with the outcome.”

They walked down the halls, losing themselves a few times before reaching the main doors.

“I’m sorry it was stressful and uncomfortable.” Stan’s tongue had slipped, dropping formalities. Kyle did not seem to care or notice.

“This is but one aspect of being a true king. I simply hope what shall transpire is for the best of our people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I suck and took an extra week off, and then had no Wi-Fi until right now. 許せ、皆さん！ÚmÙ  
> Even though holidays are coming up, I plan to continue the same upload schedule. So, yeah. Looking forward to continuing this fic! Hope everyone has a wonderful week, and that you guys spend time with people you care about and doing things you enjoy!  
> Thank you for reading, and take care uwu


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingdom chapter 13

They found themselves at the foot of the stairs, the carriage nowhere in sight.

Kyle looked around, turning his head left and right. “The carriage. Where could it have gone? We need to return to the palace.” 

Stan took a step forward, then turned on his heels to face Kyle. He wore a grin. “As you asked me to partake in a night on the balcony, I shall do the same to you. Tell me, are you willing to spend the day with me here, in Evahyl? What say thee?” His smile grew.

Bemused, Kyle took a moment to respond. He laughed, and eventually nodded. “My fair knight, I long for the honor to join you in such an outing."

The two strolled down the paved road, towards the life of Evahyl. The streets were ripe with elves of all ages, walking, talking, singing, dancing. Joy and passion rang through the air, a symphony of voices and laughter.

Kyle found himself beaming, and Stan could hardly contain his excitement. After weeks in the palace, he found himself reunited with the glorious city of Evahyl, and wanted to reveal its many wonders and mysteries to Kyle.

On the streets themselves, the energy of the city penetrated through their bones. No longer did the barrier of the carriage contain them, a cage that divided the two; they were released, exposed to the untamed and passionate community.

Small shops were scattered at every corner, selling a variety of goods. Bakeries, libraries, and homes found their place nuzzled against each other.

As they walked, they seemed to blend into the crowd. No longer were they a king and his knight, those limited down to a simple title. They were Stan and Kyle, two individuals wishing to spend their day in glee.

Stan stopped before a small building, glass covering most of its front. “Come, come and look. I used to love coming here. They have an incredible array of items.” He smiled brightly, and held the door open for Kyle.

Inside the small shop, shelves held various trinkets, pottery, and utensils. The ceiling was replaced with glass, illuminating the room. Tables and shelves lined the floor, giving the shop an almost maze-like feel.

“Ah, guests! Please, wait a moment!” A voice rang from a room in the back.

Kyle ran his fingers along one of the shelves, looking at the items lining it. A ghost of a smile placed itself on his lips.

Stan stepped behind him. “If you ask, I am certain any shopkeeper would give you whatever you want.”

Kyle snapped his head to look at Stan. “Why would you say such a thing? Stan, we are _not_ stealing.”

He pressed his lips together firmly. “But is it _really_ stealing if—”

“Stan!” Kyle frowned. “Enough. I do not wish to be treated any differently than anyone out there.” He pointed to the moving crowd on the streets.

Kyle crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his upper arm. “As a matter of fact—” He brought his hands to his head, long delicate fingers caressing his curls and embracing his circlet. With the grace that came with repeating the same action for years, he took off the headpiece, followed by his intricate ear cuffs.

“Ah, Kyle, I don’t think you should—”

“Welcome, welcome!” A bright and cheery older woman stepped out behind one of the shelves.

Kyle quickly hid his circlet and ear cuffs under his long robes.

“My, what elegant wears you two are in.”

Kyle had not accounted their attire, and nearly cursed.

Stan could barely contain a cocky snicker. 

“Ah, yes,” Kyle started, hesitantly, “We hail from the south, and had wished to purchase ornate vestments from Evahyl.”

The woman’s brows rose sharply. “From the south, you say? That’s quite the refined tongue you got there.”

Stan faked a cough to hide his laughter.

“My apo—I’m sorry. I thought everyone spoke that way here.” Kyle’s voice sounded stiff and forced.

“I don’t know where you heard _that_ from, but things are not much different here than from the south.” She smiled. “Feel free to look around, and summon me if thou so need.” She snickered and returned to the back of the room.

Kyle let out a harsh exhale that sounded like a groan.

Stan laughed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, how thou royally failed in acting like the average elf.”

The tips of Kyle’s ears burned red. “As thou hast blundered in thine own façade.” He walked away from Stan, arms crossed.

Stan did not follow Kyle. He knew he should not have laughed and ridiculed Kyle, but the scene that played before him was memorable and amusing. Another snicker escaped him, and he turned to look through the shop’s inventory.

After several moments of browsing, Stan found Kyle looking at woven bands.

“If you wish to not wear the crown, we need to secure it properly.” Stan held out a leather knapsack. “Worry not, for I have the funds needed to purchase it.”

Kyle eyed the knapsack and pouted. “I suppose that is the better option.”

Stan smiled. “And you must stop with the sophisticated speech. Your robes are eye-catching as is. If you open your mouth and speak with regality, then your identity shall be known. We are lucky the shop owner believed your lie.”

He sighed. “I am familiar with the common tongue—” He bit his bottom lip. “But it’s hard to use. Sometimes it comes easily, but not always.”

Stan chuckled. “Then speak quietly, or let me do the talking.”

Kyle’s face flushed. “Very well, then.”

Stan walked to the woman in the back. Kyle continued to browse through the shop while Stan made the purchase. Once he exchanged a few words with the older woman, he gave her a smile, and rejoined Kyle at the front of the shop.

Back on the streets of Evahyl, the temperature had risen, both from the relentless sun and the elves roaming. Stan slung the knapsack over one of his shoulders, securing it on one side with Kyle at his other.

“Now, shall we continue?”

Kyle nodded, and the two headed towards a central hub of the city. Elves were crowded against each other, body heat and humidity quenching the previous euphoria.

Stan made sure to keep a hand on the knapsack.

There were several elves standing atop crates and barrels, delivering messages, or reading poetry. Many that passed them offered a coin, flower, or piece of bread. With each gift, the speakers thanked the giver.

Kyle looked wherever he could, wide-eyed and amazed. He could not remember the last time he saw so many people gathered in one place, and was astonished at the fact that the place he was standing in was another’s reality.

Stan smiled down at Kyle, watching him take in all the sites. He attempted to stand as close to Kyle as possible, but the two often found themselves pushed around by others.

After making it out of the busiest part of the hub, the two exchanged a glance and smiled.

“Those filthy humans!” A shrill voice resonated above the crowd.

Both Stan and Kyle stopped in their tracks.

“Join me, brothers and sisters! Join me, and let’s go end this war! We must strike the humans down where they stand, purging our lands of their existence!”

They both tensed and held their breaths.

“You, my brother in that gorgeous armor! You look ready to join in on the fight! Let’s see some humans drop!”

Stan leaned over to whisper into Kyle's ear,n“Shall we leave? Please, let us continue away from here.”

Kyle nodded wordlessly, his face pale.

The elf continued to shout obscenities, and called Stan a coward and traitor of his kingdom.

As they walked, more and more elves declared their thoughts and feelings on the war. There were many like the first radical, wanting to bring punishment to the humans. Stan was sure to guide Kyle away from those.

There were also those who were opposed to the war entirely, wishing for peace between both kingdoms, and wanting a prosperous future for both parties.

Incredibly few were the ones that spoke of the idiocy of the war, and the divisions of the kingdoms. They too wanted the war to end, and for both kingdoms to become united, living together.

Then there were the ones that wanted the war to end, but for the humans to slowly rot in their own waste. They had brought that on themselves, and had to live with their consequences.

Farther and farther they walked, gradually nearing the edge of the city. The previous density relaxed, outbursts about the war had ceased, and the walkways were much more open. As they neared the edge, underbrush slowly seeped into the city. The air felt cooler and calmer.

The energy from Evahyl was bustling and exciting, constantly moving and shifting. With every voice came the echo of life, and with every elf, the heat of existence. At the center of the city, the essence resonated with their vitality. Vivacious and passionate, Evahyl flourished on its own accord. Surrounding the heated city, the elven forest’s serenity encased the effervescence, composing it into one dense core.

Both Stan and Kyle released a tense breath. They were glad to be away from the unruly presence of the radicals.

“I apologize for any stress and displeasures that may have caused you.” Stan kept his voice low.

Kyle shook his head. “It was enlightening to hear the various thoughts of the people, regardless if they brought me discomfort.”

Stan hummed, then looked ahead of them. He stretched his legs and neck, attempting to get a better view of what stood before them. He grinned, and beckoned Kyle to follow him as he jogged towards it.

Before them stood a large amphitheater, bringing the one in the palace to shame. There were few elves sitting on its many levels, reading, chatting, and eating. Hundreds of elves could sit and watch whatever was to be displayed.

“Plays are often performed here,” Stan said as he led Kyle down the many steps. “I have seen many, but cannot remember their names. Though, the reason I brought you here was because of an event that took place not too long ago.”

At the bottom of the steps, Stan and Kyle stood in the large arena. To one side, all the levels of the amphitheater. To the other, a small shack and the elven forest.

“Am I right to assume this is where the tournament took place?” Kyle looked to Stan for confirmation.

Stan nodded. “This would be the place.”

Kyle looked around, turning in a slow circle. “I cannot believe the tournament partook in a place such as this, and I cannot begin to imagine the pressure of everyone watching you as it did. All of their eyes were on you, judging your actions, and awaiting the results.” He looked at Stan. 

Those were the only eyes that mattered to him. 

“Yes, ‘twas quite the experience.” He grinned. “And in the end, it was worth every second of it.”

They walked the perimeter of the arena, smiling and laughing. Stan retold the events of the tournament, how there were hundreds of elves lined up to fight. It lasted days, each paired up with another at random. Everyone he fought were easier opponents than any of the Eldritch, Stan had pointed out. He wished them well on their travels, and on the front lines. His last opponent, however, was on par with the group. Stan could not recall her name, and wished he had asked for it.

With the passing of time, they felt their hunger kicking in. They had not eaten since the previous night, and had not realized their great amount of fatigue. Stan had led Kyle out of the arena and down a street. He had recalled there being a small bakery in the area, and hoped he was going in the proper direction.

After a session of searching, the bakery came into view. The building was a bit shorter than the others, yet slightly longer than them. Like the shops, a large window replaced most of the front wall. Tables and chairs were arranged around the courtyard before it, though most were empty.

Stan and Kyle sat at the table nearest the door, and almost instantly, a woman stepped out of the bakery. Her brown hair was a lighter shade than Karen’s, and shorter. Her green dress and apron were stained with batter and flour, and her gentle brown eyes held a smile.

“Wait,” Stan started as she drew near. “I know you.”

The woman stopped, brows furrowed. “Do you, now?”

“Yes, yes! I could never forget you. In fact, I was talking about you but moments ago. You’re the other finalist in the tournament!”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! I remember!” She grinned. “My humble adversary! I never caught your name.”

“Stan. And yours?”

She titled her head to the side slightly, a soft and inviting smile at her lips. “Heidi.”

“I never would have imagined such a skilled warrior ran a bakery.”

“Oh, well, carrying around all those sacks of flour makes you strong.” She laughed loudly.

“I would assume so. Has the baking business treated you well?”

“Yes, of course! This bakery has been around for many decades. My father opened it, and I’ve been taking care of it since my youth.” She paused. “What brings you to Evahyl?”

“Important business for Erendriel.”

“Oh, but aren’t you supposed to—” Her eyes shifted to Kyle, and she froze. “This wouldn’t happen to be—”

“But it is.” Stan grinned, pride filling his chest.

Heidi practically dropped to her knees, mustering the deepest bow that she could without placing her hands on the paved ground. “Your highness, my king, forgive me for neglecting to address or acknowledge you, and for the lack of formalities. I could barely recognize you without the crown. I now see I am at fault, for you radiate excellence.”

Kyle leaned forward slightly. “Come, now, no need for that. You have done no wrong. I wished to spend the day treated as any resident of Erendriel, and your actions have done so. In truth, I should be thanking you.”

She swung her head up to look at Kyle. “My king, I cannot allow that. You are worthy of every praise, and should be treated as such.” 

Kyle frowned slightly. “Very well, then. And if I order you to do so?”

Stan could hear the unease in Kyle’s voice.

“Then, I would have no choice but to obey your wishes.”

Kyle clutched the fabric at his lap and told Heidi to treat him as she would any other. She remained at the table with them for quite some time, but avoided addressing Kyle directly, and gave him anxious glances.

The casual atmosphere had been ruined by one quick exchange.

Eventually, Heidi stood and returned to the bakery, only to return with various pastries and bread. She had not known which the king would like, and brought one of each, along with plates and utensils. There was no need for remitment, she had said, and that she would be incredibly grateful and honored for the rest of her days before leaving the two.

Kyle placed a hand at his chin and looked away, his expression tight and sorrowful.

“Is there something wrong?”

He blinked slowly, avoiding Stan’s gaze. “You could never understand.”

“I cannot, but please know everyone acts that way with you for a reason. It is not due to fear of you, or consequences, but to an admiration of you. As Heidi had said, you are worthy of all praise, and radiate excellence.” He snickered.

Kyle looked to Stan, his expression unreadable. It took him a moment to catch Stan’s contagious smile. “Be it so, I cannot help the heartache it brings me.” He looked to the bread, remembering his earlier hunger. His hand hovered over the array, swaying as he decided on what to grab. He decided on a simple bun with a glazed top. Plain and simple, the bread proved to be sweet and rich.

Stan grabbed a small slice near him, finding it brittle but delicious.

“These pastries are wonderful.”

Stan hummed. “That they are. Which would you like to try next?”

Kyle’s hand hovered over the tray once again, then lowered. “I am unsure. Have you decided on one?”

“Not at all.” He placed another random pastry onto his plate. “But I got one.” He smiled.

The pastry was a sticky roll with toasted nuts and drizzled syrup.

“That one looks incredible.”

Stan held it out to Kyle. “Here, take it.”

Kyle shook his head. “No. You chose it. I cannot take it from you.”

Stan looked at Kyle for a moment. “Then—” He grabbed a knife and cut the roll in half, offering one to Kyle. “Let’s both enjoy it.” He grinned.

Kyle held out his plate, taking the cut roll with a soft smile. “How thoughtful.”

They cut into their portions, savoring every sweetly crunchy bite.

Once their plates were emptied, Kyle decided on a fruit tart, and cut it into equal portions.

They continued with such routine: taking turns deciding on a pastry, splitting it in half, and giving it to the other. Each bread and pastry proved incredibly satisfying, and they ended up fulfilled. Heidi had seemed to disappear, but Stan left a few coins for her at the table before they left.

As the day stretched on, Stan and Kyle wandered through the streets of Evahyl, careful to avoid its boisterous center. Frequently, they would pass the many gardens, each one its own arrangement of beauty. By late afternoon, they decided to sit within one.

Coincidentally, they decided on one of the larger gardens. There were trees, bushes, and flowers, growing and gleaming in the populated area, yet they were unperturbed by the actions of elven society. At its center stood a marble fountain, its waters glowing in the low light. A gentle mist was carried by the gust, refreshing them in the slightest. Few birds sang in the tree branches, hidden from view. Butterflies dances with flowers, and dragonflies lounged at the fountain.

They sat at the fountain, their backs against the bright and setting sun.

“Today has been phenomenal.” Kyle smiled at Stan. “I thank you for this. After our previous night’s hardships, I needed the opportunity to release that suppressed frustration. There is so much at stake, so much that needs to be protected. That weight presses against me always, and the conference strengthened it. I can never repay you for this gentle escape.”

“There is no need to repay me, for I am only doing what is best for you. You are so preoccupied and focused on the well-being of this land, yet neglect to care for yourself.”

“You speak in lies.”

“And you hold no truths.”

Kyle chuckled. “You slay me with your words.”

“Alas, I have done the very thing I have sworn against.”

Another chuckle, and a pause before Kyle spoke again. “Stan, remind me of what you were to do should you have not won the tournament?”

“Well,” He looked up to watch a bird fly into the sky. “I would have taken my sword and enlisted in the army. Regardless of the form, I craved to protect every living creature in Erendriel. I had prepared my belongings, said farewell to my home, and sought out to enlist. Then, I heard of the tournament, and decided to try it. There would be no harm in such a feat, I had thought.” He smiled. “Instead, I gained the greatest reward in the entire land.”

“Riches and power?” Kyle teased.

“Absolutely not. I could care less for such things. I was gifted with the chance to spend my hours in your company." Stan grinned widely, his heart fluttering.

“Ah, how thankful am I of the outcomes of that fated encounter.”

“You would have had Heidi at your side instead of me.” It was Stan’s turn to tease, yet he felt a pang of regret and sorrow in his chest.

“As wonderful as she seems, she could never replace you.”

They looked at each other, their eyes capturing the brightness of the sun. Stan’s negative emotions faded into the stretching shadows, his fingers grazing against Kyle’s.

Kyle felt his chest swell with joy and comfort, his fingers jolting against Stan’s.

Stan exhaled contently. “If only we could stay in the city past nightfall. It’s incredible, with all the lanterns and lights. The streets are loud, but with a noise unlike the one we experienced. No, music blossoms through the air, enchanting all who’s ears fall upon it.”

“Oh? Tell me more about this.”

As their time in Evahly grew limited, Stan retold Kyle stories of the festivals and dancing that partook in the city. While the children and elderly slept, those in their prime took to the streets. There were performers, dancers, singers, and musicians, all similar to the ones out in the day, but with a different energy. Many danced until they could stand no more, yet the music and festivities continued past their fatigue. Stan had heard and seen many meet their beloved at these gatherings, and recalled Ike and Karen had met at one. Though he had his fair share of attendance, Stan had preferred to spend his nights at home.

A strange and unfamiliar longing spread through his chest.

“May I take you to one final place before we depart from the city?” Stan pressed his lips together.

Kyle responded with a nod, and they made their way outside of the encapsulated forest.

They walked farther from the center, closer to the welcoming forest. Though the city thinned out the farther they walked, Stan remained on high alert the entire time. There was no telling who may be hiding in the leaves. Once they were out of the city limits and within a thin section of the forest, Stan led Kyle south.

Kyle did not know where they were going. He felt his heart begin to race, and the crisp forest air froze his lungs, but he trusted Stan.

Hidden underneath a large tree, a small building blended into the shadows. Unlike the buildings in Evahyl, this one was darker, emphasizing the forest’s shroud. Stan stopped before it, a proud grin at his lips.

“As you have shown me yours, I now show you mine. Here lies my former home.”

Kyle walked up to the building, studying it. “This is where you lived when with your mentor?”

“This would be the place.”

Kyle placed his hand on the wooden door. “I see.” He looked at Stan. “May we go inside?”

Stan smiled but shook his head. “I regretfully will have to deny you that request. Night draws near, and we must return to the palace soon. Perhaps at a later date.”

Kyle nodded as they walked back to Evahyl. “I would like that. ‘Tis a promise, my fair knight.”

They returned to the city’s main entrance, and were met with the carriage. The coachman exchanged a few words with the two, asking them if they enjoyed their day, and if they were ready to depart. After a couple of small preparations, Stan and Kyle were settled in, and the carriage was on its way back to the palace.

Unlike the ride to Evahyl, Stan and Kyle sat next to each other.

“I had said this earlier, but allow me to say it once more: I cannot begin to thank you or show you my gratitude for the day’s events.”

Stan shook his head. “And I told you: there is no need to thank me. I too enjoyed the day, which is more than enough to me.” He rummaged through the knapsack and pulled out the circlet and ear cuffs. “I believe these belong to you.” 

“Oh, yes. With the return to the palace comes the return of its king.” Kyle hardly grinned, and placed the items on his lap.

“You are a cunning royal.”

“And you are a dastardly knight.”

They laughed in each other’s company, exchanging witty remarks in the dark carriage. In truth, they had forgotten they were riding a carriage, for they cared for only themselves. Their words and presence were all that mattered in the darkness. Slowly did their exchanges fade, joy turning into silence.

“Kyle?”

“Yes?”

“Do you need to rest?”

“There is no need to rest when sitting.”

Stan rolled his eyes but smiled. “The day must have been very tiring for you, was it not? Should the need for sleep arise, you may.”

“Do not tell me what to do.” There was a teasing frustration in Kyle’s voice, yet fatigue took its strength.

Stan chuckled, feeling his own body grow tired. The day’s events could not have gone better. He had enjoyed himself, but most importantly, Kyle had enjoyed himself. That was all that mattered to him as he could hardly see the trees shift outside of the window. If Kyle was happy, then his purpose was fulfilled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didya mortals really think I'd leave you without seeing the city? Of course not! Feed, feed my children uwu  
> If any of you are familiar with Shakespeare, you'd known that Act III is usually where stuff happens. So, again: feed, feed my children, and enjoy uwu  
> Thank you for reading, and take care! uwuwuwu


	14. Chapter 14

They were in a small, closed-off room, a single window allowing little light to enter. They stood, surrounding a table, a map of Erendriel and The Kingdom spread out for all to see. Stan stood at Kyle’s right, Ike to his left. The others were soldiers, captains, and generals from the front lines.

“Now that we are all gathered here, we will begin.”

All eyes turned to Kyle, who stepped ever closer to the table. Stan did not know if the action was a nervous tick, or simply a gesture proving authority.

He retold the events that transpired in Evahyl the day prior.

Five years had passed since the regicide of King Broflovski Erendriel and Queen Sheila. 

Erendriel had not hesitated to begin its preparations for battle. It declared war against the Kingdom and readied its people for battle. Many civilians were more than willing to join the fight and their forces grew with time.

The armies moved, determined to protect their home.

Five years had passed since the beginning of the war.

At the end of the forest, the border between Erendriel and the Kingdom began. There, the humans’ forces awaited the armed elves. Battles ensued, leaving both sides impaired and enraged. The humans had built a barrier, a long and extending wall of wooden stakes. The elves had established watchtowers and forts, all within the cover of the Elven Forest.

Battalions stationed themselves at the establishments, scattered and covering large areas. Beyond their reach were camped platoons, and beyond that, a raging river. Including the incredibly dense and hazardous outskirts of the forest, Erendriel had a thorough and complete defense.

Their orders were to keep any opposing forces away and to not engage in battle unless absolutely necessary. The humans, however, would constantly attack them, taking any opportunity they could to wound Erendriel. Constantly would Erendriel keep its defenses up against the humans.

Five years and there was no end in sight.

A general with golden hair who introduced himself as Yardale lifted a finger. “Pardon the intrusion, my king, but what exactly is the action we must take?”

Kyle clenched his hands, Stan noticing the small action.

“We had spent too much time arguing back and forth on how to proceed. Easily could our forces continue as they are, yet we fear they may tire quickly. Our resources are dwindling and it is unfair to have them in danger for so long. Alas, we came to the decision to initiate an unbridled war.”

The defense of the border was to continue, and more forces were to be gathered. While the sturdy battalions were to remain firm and guard Erendriel, nimble and powerful squadrons were to enter the kingdom and bring down their defenses.

They were advised to use any means necessary against the opposing foe.

Their main priority was the Kingdom’s barrier: it needed to be taken down. They were to set it ablaze, fire at the soldiers that tried to escape, and conquer the emptied forts. From there, they would move inward, making their way to the Capital.

With every passing town, the armies were advised to conquer them.

Unlike the forts and armed camps, the towns were to be taken over peacefully. Erendriel took no pride in shedding blood, and would not tolerate the loss of innocent lives.

Towns were to be put under Erendriel’s protection as the war ensued.

They did not expect all humans to submit peacefully. The rowdy and rebellious ones were to be imprisoned and made example of. Should the entire town revolt, then they were to be taken down without major injury. They would be imprisoned within the boundaries of their own town, without any food or water for some time.

A cruel punishment nonetheless, but one that prevented any unnecessary deaths.

The same would be preferable when fighting against the forts. Should the opportunity present itself, the squadrons would be advised to prevent murdering the enemy. Ideally, they would be able to overtake the fort by starving the humans or pouring a non-lethal poison into their water supply. Ultimately, Erendriel wished to end the war with as few deaths as possible, yet they all knew such a feat proved unrealistic.

Their armies were to make their way up and to the center. Unlike Erendriel, the Kingdom had many hills and valleys. Hilled cities, towns, and establishments were to be avoided, in favor of the smaller ones and ones in valleys. Their purpose was to build a strong foundation within the Kingdom and to slowly etch at its grip and power on the humans. They did not want to conquer the corrupt land, but to aid it in its struggles.

Once they found their way to the Capital, they were to be stationed outside its outer walls. No one was to be let in or out. They were to send messages to king Cartman, in hopes of coming to some compromise or treaty. All of them were to end with King Cartman off the throne.

They knew that king would never agree to such a thing.

Slowly were they to invade the Capital, using the same tactics, and ultimately overthrow the corrupt monarch.

“With that, I conclude what was decided at the conference.” Kyle took a small step back, and stood with his arm nearly touching Stan’s.

Stan could practically feel the anxiety pulsing off Kyle in waves.

“I understand what you so graciously laid out before us,” Yardale started, “Yet may I ask how we are to gather more forces? Forgive me for this, but not you nor the council has been to the front lines. Of course, we can continue as we are, but we are stretched thin as is. To ask us to divide our forces further would end in disaster.”

Ike clicked his tongue quietly.

“I am aware this strategy is not ideal, nor perfect. There are many things that could be added, changed, or removed completely. I was simply retelling what the council decided on. There are many able individuals in Evahyl. Should we announce a need for more support, I am sure they would come.”

Yardale pressed his lips together, eying the map atop of the table.

Ike forced a chuckle down.

“Then we should send word out immediately,” a different general cut in, “My king.”

The others seemed to agree and began discussing what the message should say, and how they could distribute the new forces. Some forts were in dire need of more soldiers and others claimed they had too many. They spent the afternoon exchanging strategies and suggesting revisions to the previous one.

Five years had proved too long for the war and they were ready to bring an end to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't mess with the f*cking high ground, Anakin!" Hahaha. Sorry for the short and boring chapter. It's essential and I am NOT a war strategist/conquerer/whatever the heck it's called. Better chapter next week, I swear! Stay tuned~  
> Hope none of us are dying with finals! I wish you all well and luck uwu  
> Thank you for reading. Take care!


	15. Chapter 15

Ike led the soldiers, generals, and captains out of the room and towards the main gates. Once they had flowed out into the hall, Stan and Kyle walked out of the room. Kyle pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing in circular motions.

“Alas a taste of what being a king should be like and I find myself overwhelmed.” He chuckled, then looked to Stan. “How are you feeling?”

“That was a first for me, as well. Such a dense and ruminative atmosphere for a small room. Regardless, I think you handled things excellently.” He dared the smallest of nudges with his shoulder.

Kyle snickered. “How bold of you to strike the king.”

They walked through the hall and down the stairs in laughter, exchanging witty remarks on some of the members of their meeting, specifically Yardale. At the ground floor, Kyle tapped a finger to his chin in contemplation.

“What troubles you, my king?” Stan grinned.

Kyle eyed Stan with a smiling annoyance. “I continue to feel the effects of the meeting and wish to release that frustration. Tell me, are you willing to join me in the courtyard?”

Stan’s chest tightened. “Please do not tell me you are suggesting what I think you are.”

A smirk. “Oh, but of course. The time has come at last, my fair knight.” Without waiting for an answer, Kyle continued down the hall.

“Is there any way to convince you otherwise? Please, I find this hardly appropriate.”

“Nonsense! I am more than capable of standing my ground. Unless, of course, you find me threatening.”

Stan wanted to object, wanted to deny Kyle, but he knew that would lead him nowhere. Kyle had his mindset, and there was no way to avoid the outcome. He had yet to see Kyle do anything physical, other than walk through halls and stairs, and he feared his own strength would prove too much.

They gathered cloths, rags, and other supplies, then went out into the courtyard. Unlike all other days, many clouds dotted the sky. The air had dropped a few temperatures, evident of the upcoming autumn.

“Before we begin, I need to prepare myself.” Kyle stood before a step of the amphitheater and removed his long robe. Folding it neatly, he set it at the seat and proceeded to remove his regal regalia: bracelets, a vest, his ear cuffs, and circlet. He placed all accessories atop the folded robe.

“Now, then—” He turned to Stan with a dazzling smile. “Are we ready to begin?”

Hesitant, Stan placed their supplies near Kyle’s belongings, then held out a wooden sword for him.

With a firm yet elegant hand, Kyle gripped the hilt of the sword.

The tightness had not left Stan’s chest and his stomach felt uneasy. He did not want to do this and feared he may be unable to hold back. He also did not want to make his efforts seem too cautious and give Kyle a false and unsatisfactory victory.

“I implore you to treat me as any other foe on the battlefield. I understand I do not look it, but I am a very capable fighter.” Kyle took a stance at the center of the courtyard.

Stan gripped the sword too tightly, yet took a stance. 

A gust of wind blew in stray leaves and signaled for their duel to begin.

Kyle dashed towards Stan, drawing his sword, and swinging it widely as he lowered.

Stan barely had enough time to react and jump away before Kyle continued his swing with one arm to further his reach.

The sword knocked against one of Stan’s poleyn, dislodging it.

Kyle stood up with a grin, one hand on his hip, and the wooden blade against his shoulder.

After readjusting his poleyn, Stan shook his head, smiling.

“Wait, you are not wearing armor.”

“Your point?”

“Well, if only one of us is wearing armor—”

“Stan, be quiet and put your guard up.” Kyle went back into a fighting stance.

Having no choice, Stan returned to his previous stance.

Again, Kyle struck first, bringing his sword back around.

Stan blocked and stepped away. The swings continued, but Stan managed to block every one of them.

Kyle retracted, pulling his arm back quickly, then jabbed it towards Stan’s chest.

With the flat end of the blade, Stan blocked the wooden point, holding the hilt with one hand, and supporting the blade with the other.

Kyle pushed his sword towards the crook of Stan’s elbow and forced him to break his stance.

Stan spun away, then swung his sword at Kyle’s side with restraint.

Fighting against the momentum of his previous attack, Kyle guided his sword back around and blocked the blow.

Stan tried for his knees but was blocked a second time.

Kyle leaped to the side, going towards Stan’s blind spot, and swung with all his might.

Barely was Stan able to block the blow and pushed against it.

Jumping back, Kyle started pacing around Stan. “You are not fighting back. Mere blocking ‘tis not adequate for a duel, charlatan knight.” He smirked.

Stan frowned deeply.

Kyle stopped and eyed Stan. “Come, now, neither of us are enjoying ourselves. I wish to have a worthy opponent, yet he is reluctant to participate. You are more than capable with a sword, and can easily strike with it, yet cower behind it.”

“I don’t want to go too far and end up hurting you.” He bit his tongue.

He tilted his head to the side. “Is that all? I am certain you would refrain from doing so.” He sighed. “Very well, then. Allow me to ask you this: are you familiar with the rapier?”

He shook his head. “I am proficient with only a sword.”

“Then allow us to trade these cumbersome props for something with more finesse.” He walked towards Stan and held out his hand for the wooden sword. Once he had both swords in hand, he walked back inside the palace. After a few short moments, he returned, holding two training rapiers.

“As Ike had told me a mere few days ago, ‘a rapier is not much different from a sword. The shape may differ, and the function slightly, but a weapon is a weapon.’” He held out a rapier for Stan, who took it with a loose grip.

Unlike the wide and sturdy blade of a sword, a rapier was a thin extension of a blade.

Kyle held out his rapier and told Stan about the weapon: how it is held, how to strike, how to pierce, and all other fundamentals. He demonstrated a few poses and attacks, emphasizing his explanation.

Once Stan understood the basics, they took their positions.

“I will have to warn you—” Kyle turned at an angle, one hand holding the rapier and pointing it towards Stan, the other hovering near his chest, “I am much more adept with the rapier than the long sword.”

With a nod, Stan mirrored Kyle’s stance.

The tips of the rapiers crossed, an easy pressure coming from the other. They started pacing, moving in a circular motion, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

Kyle watched Stan with eager curiosity. How would he move and react when his brute strength was replaced with agility and poise?

Stan inhaled deeply, then pushed the point of the rapier towards Kyle.

Feeling the movement along the blade, Kyle swung at the incoming blade then pulled back and away.

Stepping forward, Stan thrust the blade towards Kyle’s knee, but was met with a block.

Swing, parry, thrust, dash, and block.

The clicking of soft metal barely echoed through the courtyard.

“You are fighting with the mentality of a long sword. Large movements may do you more harm than good.” Kyle blocked another swing.

Stan clicked his tongue and retreated a few steps.

Kyle pulled his rapier back and around, flicking his wrist as he did so, and landed the tip on Stan’s chest. He smiled. “Another hit from me.”

They stood, staring at each other, their breaths growing heavier. As their duel continued, the sky slowly cleared. It seemed as if their initiating gust had wished for the sun the shine down on them, allowing it to spectate their exchange with blades. Though the day brightened, the soft breeze continued.

“Care to continue?”

Stan stepped into his stance, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But of course.”

Kyle chuckled and brought his rapier up.

With their first-round, Stan’s initial anxieties and unease had faded. The rapier would always feel foreign in his hand, a small and nimble weapon as opposed to his thick and heavy long sword. Regardless, he appreciated the rapier’s reach, and how quick one could move with it in hand. Though, precise and swift movements had to be made, or else failure would ensue.

They resumed the circular motion, eyes locked on each other, lips pulled into a grin. Confidence filled them both as their steps formed into an even and steady pulse, one following the other. Kyle stepped forward, and Stan stepped back, and then the reverse. Constantly were they moving in a flowing back and forth manner, swift and unconscious.

With one step forward came a lean at an angle, and thus the other stepped back with the opposing angle. Their hands swayed as they moved, incessant and rhythmic. Hardly did their movement cease, continuing in an effortless sweep. Wrists were flicked, they spun with their heels, and their arms extended and retracted. A pattern slowly developed, one uneasy yet deliberate.

Laughter and joy filled the air, euphoria blossoming between them. 

Once the sun dared to begin its descent, they stopped and sat at the amphitheater’s lowest level. Sweat drenched their attire, sticking their hair to their faces, and their hearts fluttered with their laboring breaths.

“I must say,” Stan started, “I was not expecting such skill with the blade from you. In fact, I dare say you are at my level, or even greater. That rings especially true with the rapier. You are incredible.”

Kyle chuckled and pushed back a stray curl. “It was part of my education as a child. Though difficult, I found the efforts enjoyable.”

Stan shook his head, a bead of sweat running down his jaw. “If you are so great and competent, it makes me wonder why you need me. You are more than capable of protecting yourself.”

“A false statement. These props are nothing compared to actual weapons, be it in shape or in weight. You were conserving your strength, and this was a spar. There was nothing at stake, and you did not have the intent to hurt me. Believe me when I say this. Ike did not hold back, and I was forced past my limit.” He looked to his boots.

“He must be a great warrior.”

Kyle hummed. “He was the one that taught me to wield a blade.”

His thought remained on Stan’s previous comment. Ike had asked a similar question of having no one there to aid and protect him, and now Stan brought the subject back into light. He could not dare to begin thinking about it, but thoughts rampaged through his mind.

The delightful spar they participated in lost its glory, for grim reveries overpowered and tainted his conscious.

Stan watched as the clouds grew in the sky, furthering the dimming of the sun’s light. The gentle wind cooled him down after his magnificent duel. He had first feared injuring Kyle but grew to enjoy the exchanges they had. Blow after blow, their movements crafted with expertise, the duel proved to be great, and he knew he would remember it for a long time. He knew not if or when they would have such an opportunity again, and therefore cherished their long-lasting session.

“Come,” he said as his gaze remained fixed at the sky, “Let us return to the palace. The day leaves us, and we need to eat and hydrate ourselves.” 

Kyle stood quickly, his arms swinging in the slightest, and his eyes downcast. With a sharp inhale, he looked up and to Stan, a firm smile at his lips. “After you, my honest knight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ike is that one anime guy that lifts his sword out of the hilt a little bit, puts it back, and everyone dies.  
> I hope you guys liked this chapter! There *is* subtext in the rapier scene, which I think is super obvious, and if you guys figure it out, you deserve a prize.  
> Thanks for reading, and take care uwu


	16. Chapter 16

“Until tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

Stan turned to his left and went into his quarters. The day had proven to be rich, its joy plentiful. Every duty, every aspect, and every event turned wonderous when in the company of Kyle. As he sat on the bed and removed his armor, his thought roamed to his glorious king. One could not think of Kyle without their thought focusing on his crimson curls. They were a bright color, yet held the beauty of everlasting flames. How Kyle managed to keep them tamed, he wondered, for they always curled and flicked in the most elegant and satisfying ways. He unconsciously fingered the tips of his own black strands, straight and without form. Unlike Kyle, he was not blessed with beautiful hair.

Kyle radiated authority, strength, and power. His trepidations of being king were unfathomable to Stan. Kyle was born to be a king, and though he lacked experience, he constantly displayed his worth and greatness.

Stan’s lips pulled themselves into a smile as he unlaced his boots, his face warming simultaneously.

Though, if Kyle is the king, does he not need a queen?

Stan’s smile fell.

How could he overlook such a major detail? Of course Kyle would need a queen if he were not already engaged. Regardless, they would have to unite soon. Kyle would need a woman by his side, have a family of his own, and an heir to reign.

Stan’s chest tightened. Just where would he fit into Kyle’s life? He had no place among royalty; he knew that. He was a simple knight, disposable, but also the enemy. Though he long since cut his ties with the human society, that did not change his lineage, nor his blood.

He did not deserve to be in Erendriel, did not deserve to be in the palace, did not deserve to be with Kyle.

Yet, his heart screamed in objection. Yes, he lived in Erendriel, one part of a community and family. Yes, he lived in the palace, serving the people and the land. Yes, he spent every day of his finite life with one that captivated his attention, brought him immense joy, and lightened every dark hour.

Though what purpose did any of that serve if he could not be with Kyle constantly? What purpose did any of that serve if he was to be tossed aside once the war has ended, Kyle has wed, or both?

Stan wanted the war to end more than anything, yet he hesitated if it meant leaving Kyle’s side. He knew Kyle wanted it to end, as well. Did that mean he wanted to be rid of Stan?

No, that could not be. Kyle wanted to be with Stan and has done more than enough to show him that, yet the doubt lingered. Perhaps Kyle simply used Stan as a distraction from the chaos and turmoil of the war or the responsibilities of being a king. Stan assumed Kyle’s sentiments were genuine, yet there was no way to verify that. All Stan knew was that _his_ thoughts, his sentiments, his hopes, and his fears were more than genuine. If the worst came to be, he only hoped that Kyle would remain cheerful and lively.

Lying on the mattress and pulling the sheets to his chest, Stan stared at the ceiling.

_Where did all of this come from?_

His duty was to protect the king, and that was all that he should think about. Spending his time with Kyle was but a benefit of his task, and they were to remain methodical. He could not afford to get ahead of himself. The one that captivated him? No, Kyle was simply his responsibility. Where did he fit in his life? At Kyle’s side, or guarding from behind.

He could not afford to let his mind and heart wander, for fear of failing his duties.

Stan pushed the thoughts, though they lingered further. Doubts, fears, hopes, longings, they plagued him as he lay there. His mind raced, shifting from one extremity to the other. Where did all of this come from, and what did it mean?

_Sanctum, aid me._

The slightest hint of a chuckle welled in his chest. It seemed as if Kyle was beginning to influence him. Stan had grown accustomed to the beliefs and culture of the people of Erendriel, yet knew none that had a fascination and passion as deep as Kyle’s when it came to Erendriel itself, as well as the Tree of Sanctum. Kyle had said he wished to see it one day, whereas Stan believed it to be mere folklore. How peculiar could it be to find the views of one to be the lifestyle of another? If Stan had not come to the palace, nor met Kyle, he would have refrained from giving the Tree of Sanctum a second thought. He lived knowing it was a tree, and though the legend was common knowledge, many neglected to pay it any mind. Kyle, however, adored it, and thus entranced Stan in his beliefs.

Stan was too familiar with that not being the only element that entranced him, and his thoughts returned to Kyle.

He groaned and clutched his head, ruffling his hair. Why did his thoughts return to Kyle? What were the meaning of these thoughts? Why was he having these thoughts?

_What a fool am I to have such doubts._

In his thoughts, he neglected to speculate how Kyle felt. There could be no way that Kyle felt indifference towards him and had already proven such. Whenever Stan felt his anxieties of acceptance creep up, Kyle quelled them with words of reassurance. Likewise, Kyle confided in Stan with his own trepidations, a mere two days prior. Surely that meant that their bond of trust strengthened by the day. There could not be any other explanation. Stan had trouble believing that Kyle had told another of such perturbations, for there was a clear disconnect between those in the palace and Kyle. They clearly respected him, yet they did not seem to have a personal connection with him. Kyle himself had stated something similar, that few spoke with him. Karen and Ike seemed to have some sort of connection with him, and it seemed familial, but Stan had difficulties seeing Kyle entrusting the two.

Kyle’s trust stood strong, and Stan trusted him, as well. He had not seen anyone give him any harsh looks, save for the ones of unfamiliarity, thus confirming that Kyle’s promise rang true: he had not told anyone of Stan’s origins. When the two were together, they hardly spoke with others. When they were separated, Stan had never thought of Kyle revealing his truth. Such a feat seemed unlike Kyle, beneath him, even. Likewise, Stan would never hope to expose Kyle’s truth to anyone. They each had their own individual truths, but did they have a shared one? Could Stan’s thoughts and sentiments be part of that shared truth? Perhaps, instead, they were but another truth concerning only himself.

Losing himself to his subconscious, he hoped not. Stan hardly knew what any of his thoughts meant, but he hoped he was not alone in them.

* * *

Kyle closed one of his doors and leaned against them both. He had not expected the day to be tremendously tremulous, yet was glad it had passed. If Stan had not been at his side, he did not know if he would have withstood the meeting. Even with Stan, the ordeal quickly proved staggering, and his head pounded with an unfamiliar strength.

Still, he was grateful for Stan, and felt a spark of guilt from forcing him to spar. Kyle saw how precarious Stan had been, how unwilling and frightened he looked, yet he pressed on. He bit his tongue. His immature actions were not befitting a king, and they were not fair to Stan in the slightest.

He pushed himself off the doors and stood before an encasement. With ease, he removed his circlet and ear cuffs, placing them on a cushion, and lowering the glass top. He then went to a wardrobe and began exchanging his regal regalia for simple clothing.

Without the assistance of anyone—and therefore alone in his own silence—Kyle’s thoughts roamed to the day’s events. The morning’s meeting had proven cumbersome, and he wished to avoid such uproar in the future. Though, his wishes were wasted, for he knew his growing responsibilities as king would involve many meetings, conferences, and communication. He thought of his father and wished to ask him for aid and strength. 

It would be better to not dwell on the past, for it lacked much, and only brought him sorrow.

Stan had not been in the palace long, yet Kyle found it difficult to remember a time without him. He had fond memories with his mother and father, learning to wield a weapon, as well as his studies, and few instances in the kitchen, but they were minor, and some were beginning to fade. The memories that dominated in his mind were recent, all pertaining to Stan.

He did not know if it were wrong to have Stan influence him more than the few treasured memories of the past, but welcomed it regardless. Without Stan, he would have been solitary, without anyone to speak with, let alone confide in. There were weights that came daily, all of which needed to be removed through some form of expression. Speaking with Stan relieved him, be it about a trivial topic or of melancholy. He only hoped the same for Stan.

They needed to have a mutual bond, one that both gave and took. Kyle could not be the only one that benefit from their exchanges. He needed to support Stan in the same way he did, if not more so. Stan was thrust into a new and strange palace, with perhaps one of the greatest responsibilities in the land. Being a king proved difficult, but protecting that king needed to be impeccable. One false move and all would collapse. Stan was more than physically capable, but the weight must be unbearable. Kyle was all too familiar with unbearable weights.

Once the war comes to its end, the weight would remain, albeit to a less extreme. When the war ends, Stan would remain in the palace.

Kyle found himself smiling.

As time continued in Erendriel, Stan would remain at his side. He could not ask for more, and his chest swelled at the possibilities.

However, he had failed to consider the possibility of Stan wanting to leave. He would be naïve and unreasonable to believe that Stan would willingly remain in the palace for his entire life. Once the war came to its end, Stan may decide to forfeit his title as a knight and go back to Evahyl. Stan seemed joyful and content in the city, his true home that he longed for.

Kyle could not burden Stan with the obligation of knighthood.

Stan needed to be free to make his own choices and live his life as he pleased.

He wanted Stan to stay but knew such a wanting was selfish.

As a king, he could execute any action and obtain any possession. Yet he knew such an abuse of power only damaged the land, and hurt his people. Such actions were unforgivable, even if they were to ease his own pain. He could not live knowing that he forced others into harsh conditions and took away their will and spirit. If Stan—or anyone in the palace, for that matter—wanted to leave, then he could only wish them health and good fortunes, and ask the Tree of Sanctum to protect them.

He would miss their gentle exchanges and softly spoken words.

Stan had not wanted to spar, and though that guilted Kyle, he had more than enjoyed himself. Spending any moment with Stan brought him immense joy. A wonder and fascination with Stan blossomed in his bosom, and he found himself wanting to remain with Stan for the entirety of the day.

Yet, Stan may want differently.

When he came to the palace, Stan claimed to be honored by his appointed position as the king’s knight. Perhaps Stan spent days awaiting its end, so he may rest, and spend his night in ease. The responsibilities of a knight were great and had to be precise. Stan perhaps acted in ways he believed would please Kyle. There could be no way to determine if he truly took pleasure from their interactions. Stan could simply be reacting and going through the movements. He had looked alive, and euphoric in Evahyl, holding a gleam that became misplaced within the palace. One’s heart would forever be rooted in the place they considered their home, and would always long to remain there, always seeking to return.

Kyle had no right to deprive Stan of that haven.

Responsibilities and obligations held little weight compared to the yearnings of the heart.

It seemed as if the yearnings of Stan and Kyle contradicted.

He closed the wardrobe and walked to the small balcony near it. As always, the gentle night greeted him, vast and deep, a beautiful sapphire. Kyle leaned against the railing. He more than enjoyed spending time with Stan, and found himself effervescent when with him, yet he could not neglect Stan’s own thoughts and desires, whatever they may be. If he longed to return to Evahyl, then he may. If he wanted to remain in the palace—oh how Kyle hoped he did—then he would be more than welcome. Though, he could not let himself become too optimistic: those who had wanted to stay could not, and those that remained seemed to do so out of necessity.

_A mutual bond, one that both gave and took._

There needed to be a shift in the way they spent their days. Stan needed to be given the right to spend it as he pleased, and not following Kyle, sparing, or fulfilling some other palace responsibility. There was the possibility of Stan denying such right. Kyle simply wanted Stan to feel welcomed and at peace within the palace, offering him the best experience possible.

The delight of one elated the other.

Kyle sighed, bid the night a silent farewell, and returned to his chambers with frantic thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop with your mind games, Alo!  
> Okay, I know this isn't technically stream of consciousness, but it's fun. We're finally getting to the good stuff!  
> Which is going to make this next bit that much harder--  
> I have to change the update schedule for Erendriel. It's not going to be weekly anymore, maybe every other week. The reason: I finally started writing The Kingdom, which is the humans' side of this story. It's with my other main ship, Crenny. First chapter is up already, but I've postponed it long enough. Since they take place at the same time, I want their uploads to be in the same place. I want them to be together by the end of Act III, so I really gotta push it. I hope I won't have to put this on a longer mini-hiatus thing, but we'll see how it goes.  
> I know I said I didn't want to write anymore long end notes, but this was important. I hope you guys understand, but thank you anyways.  
> As always, thank you for reading, and take care. Hope you all have wonderful holidays, and I’ll see you all next year úwù


	17. Chapter 17

As they walked down the staircase and towards the main floor, Kyle looked over to Stan. “Should there be no other priorities for the day, we are to spend it however you please.” He smiled softly.

Stan cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing in the slightest. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“Why, ‘tis quite simple, honest knight. Enlighten me with how you wish to spend the day and we will do so.”

Stan pressed his lips together and hummed in thought. “I wish to spend my day with you, my king.” A hint of a smirk.

Kyle shook his head with a snicker. “You do so every day.”

“And it is more than enough for me.”

The main palace doors were open, and several servants were rushing in and out of them, many of them carrying sacks and crates into the palace. Thelman held a large sack in his arms, struggling slightly as he carried it in, his breath in heavy pants.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a glance before Stan rushed to his side, and helped him carry the sack.

Thelman heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you kindly. This sack of flour is much larger than the usual. If only Henrietta were here.” He chuckled, and his gaze wandered over to Kyle. “Good morrow, my king!” His knees bent in an attempt to bow, which nearly sent the flour spilling over him.

Kyle giggled. “Good morrow, Thelman. Am I correct to assume Neila has sent over supplies?”

Neila was a nearby village that often supplied the palace with materials and necessities, such as food, dishes, cloth, and ore. 

“That it has.” He looked at Stan. “Help me take this into the kitchen, yes? It is the last of those deliveries.”

The three made their way to the kitchen, Thelman and Stan doing an unusual waddle whereas Kyle strolled slowly behind them. All other servants had either taken the supplies to the kitchen or were on their way. Inside, there were people documenting and taking inventory, and others placing the supplies where they belonged.

“I apologize, my king, but the deliveries took much longer than usual, and we have failed to prepare your morning meal.” Thelman lowered the sack in a far corner with a huff, dusting off his hands once they were freed.

Stan did the same.

“Worry not, for there is no need to apologize. I understand that even the kitchen is having difficulties at the moment.” He smiled.

With his hands freed, Thelman was able to properly bow to Kyle. “I thank you for your kindness, my king, and regret to say that I will be unable to prepare anything for the time being. I am needed elsewhere, as are the others.”

“Thelman, I understand. Missing one meal will do me no harm. I wish you the best in your duties for the day.”

Another deep bow from Thelman before he scurried out of the kitchen.

After a few moments, Stan and Kyle found themselves alone in the large room.

“I have an idea.”

Kyle turned to Stan, his brows quirked. “Oh? Which is?”

“I wish to prepare your meal, my king.” The end of his sentence came out melodious.

Kyle chuckled. “Is that truly how you want to spend your morning?”

“Of course. Aiding my king is a pleasure, regardless of the task.” He bit his bottom lip and looked away for a second. “If you want, you can help me.”

Taken aback, Kyle could not find the words to respond immediately. “Well—I—it has been many years since I stepped foot into the kitchen, and even longer since I—”

“Kyle, it’s okay. You can watch me as I cook.” Stan puffed his chest out slightly, lips extended into a grin.

Once Stan had gathered all the ingredients, he found a chair for Kyle to sit in. Kyle, however, refused to sit, insisting on being directly in front of the spectacle, which made Stan chuckle and give in to his demands.

“You need to eat as well, mind you. I will refuse your meal should you have none. That, or we will be forced to divide it amongst ourselves.”

Another chuckle from Stan. “Yes, I planned on having some, too. There’s enough for both of us to have our fill.”

Stan placed some wood onto the stove and set it ablaze with flint. Once lit, he placed a pan atop it and started dividing his ingredients accordingly. First came the leafy greens and crisp reds: they sauteed in the pan while the others were chopped. Then came the sweet purples and yellows, followed by the rich starches. Gently did he sprinkle some spices into the mix.

While those cooked, Stan found some thin rounded bread and placed those to char slightly on the stove. In a pot went a splash of water and flour, which was mixed until thick. Stan added more water, as well as starches and stalky greens.

Kyle watched with newfound amazement. He had not seen a meal such as that before. There were similar dishes, but this one seemed new and completely different. Perhaps since Stan was the one making it, and not someone unseen behind a door.

“Unlike the other day, I will be able to truly assess your culinary skills.”

“Why? Because Karen isn’t here to help?”

“Of course. Though, I am looking forward to dining with you this morning. Your teacher seemed to be an honorable man, and one with incredible culinary skills. I only wish yours are on par with his.”

A snicker. “Is that so? Well, out of all his students, I was the best in both cooking and sword fighting.” He mixed the roux a few times, before removing the bread from the stove.

“This Jerome had multiple students?”

“In a way, yes. He worked in a school of sorts, and some of the children came to him for advice, entertainment, or the like.” His eyes were focused on the stove’s contents and did not waver.

“Then your assessment on your skill proves false. You lived with him, and thus had much more time with him than the other ‘students.’” Kyle smiled. “Worry not, for I will judge you accordingly.” 

By the time Stan completed the meal, Kyle’s stomach ached with the strong need to eat. He wanted to aid Stan in his preparations and sought out the dishes they would need. He found three large plates, two bowls, and the necessary utensils. Placing them near the stove, he went to find a tray to carry the dishes into the dining room.

“Here—” Stan took the tray, “Allow me.” He placed the dishes on the tray, then carefully placed the food within them. “Let me put these away, and we can go to the dining room.” He carried the dirtied dishes into a sink in the back of the room, then returned to a waiting Kyle. With a firm grip, he held the tray in his hands, and the two left the kitchen.

* * *

“Well? How is it?”

Kyle had not spoken a word since he started his meal. He sat there with empty plates and an unreadable expression.

“Marvelous. Delightful. Truly incredible. Impeccable.”

Stan snickered into his hand, which turned into a fit of laughter.

Kyle beamed. “’Tis not a jest. I truly enjoyed it. Jerome would be proud of his greatest pupil.”

Stan shook his head, his expression carrying his glee. “I am honored, for the praise of a king proves too much for this poor old knight.”

He giggled and tapped Stan’s wrist. “Enough with the false modesty and accept my words as truth.”

“Fine, yes, I believe you, o great king.”

It was Kyle’s turn to shake his head playfully. “How you humble me.”

"I mean it."

"Do you, now?" Kyle quirked a brow. 

“I'm being sincere, for that is what I believe. The time is now for you to accept my words as truth.”

Kyle simpered. “Very well, then. I too believe you, o honest knight.”

Stan had his hands firmly pressed on his thighs, while Kyle had his folded in his lap. It was all they could do to keep from reaching to the other. Instead, they peered into each other’s eyes, merriment and trust filling their chests, and radiating in the air around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR! I MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH! I missed Erendriel, too, so sorry about this short chapter. Luckily, things are going very well on The Kingdom's side. I'm starting Act II after I post this chapter, so hopefully we'll back to weekly uploads soon! Though, I am going to work on trying to have longer chapters on both fics, so it's gonna get tedious soon.  
> ALSOOOOO, if the cooking scene is weird, and you guys would prefer me to use actual ingredients (onion or something) instead of what I have down, please let me know. I'll gladly change it  
> As always, thank you for reading and take care uwu


	18. Chapter 18

Days passed where Kyle needed to fulfill his role as king. Many villages had sent messages to the palace, asking about the status of the war, and expressing their concerns. Kyle had personally responded to each message with a hand-written letter, offering words of encouragement, and gave advice where he could. 

He would have preferred speaking to the villages directly but knew that could not be.

There were also days when he needed to sort through the kingdom’s funding, as well as the conditions of the farmlands. He needed to ensure that the land was in good health, to keep everyone in good health. Where he could, he accounted for additional supplies and made arrangements to have them delivered to the front lines.

However Kyle spent his day, Stan was sure to remain at his side.

“Kyle,” Stan pressed softly, “Please, rest.”

They sat in the library, Kyle hunched over various sheets of parchment. His usual regal regalia replaced by much simpler clothing, and he did not have his ear cuffs, but the circlet remained.

With a sigh, Kyle pressed the parchment in hand onto the table. “There is so much— _too_ much to do.”

“Fretting over it will do nothing but harm you. Please, resting on occasion will help.”

Kyle pouted. “Apologies for holding you down with these tedious responsibilities. They are mine to fulfill, yet I am sure you are feeling the weight of them, as well. You should be free to spend your days as you wish, not chained down with my regal obligations.”

Stan shook his head. “I’ve told you this before: you worry too much over the well-being of the land, and not for yourself. I’m here to take care of you.” He bit his tongue and tensed, palms suddenly moist.

The parchment nearly creased under Kyle’s fingers.

“Well, it’s true.” Stan’s frantically looked anywhere but at Kyle.

Kyle looked away as well. “You did not have to say it so bluntly.”

The temperature in the library rose to uncomfortable heat.

Heart pounding, Kyle smoothed out the parchment and continued to read through it.

“ _Kyle._ ”

“Stan.”

He stared Kyle down, who did not turn away from the parchment.

With a groan, Stan stood from the table and walked into one of the aisles of books. He knew not where he was going, nor where anything was, but vaguely remembered Kyle pointing out how the books were divided. There had to be something he could do to pull Kyle away from his tasks, be it a trivial gesture. He needed to ease Kyle’s stresses in some way.

As he walked, he ran his fingers along one of the shelves, a cloud of dust trailing after him. Stan thought back to his early years, far before war entered anyone’s mind. He thought of his parents, their faces fading with time. His heart sank. How could one forget the face of their mother or their father? He loved them; though their relationship had its faults, he still loved them.

If they lived, would his life remain the same?

Of course not. He would have had no need to live in Evahyl and would have not trained with the sword as he did.

If he had stayed in his home that day, he would have died alongside them. Perhaps he should have been thankful for that argument, yet guilt condemned his soul. It was an incredibly bland and weak argument, the kind that parents and children had often. His parents did not want him to run into the forest and play with a dull sword that chipped with heavy force. They yelled at him, claiming it was dangerous, and he should stop with his baseless dream of swordsmanship. He yelled back, stating that he was more than capable of wielding the blade, and would grow to be a great swordsman. Their last exchange had been filled with anger, and he was unable to show them he loved and forgave them.

Stan’s eyes stung. He was not looking through the library to think on his regrets, but to reminisce on contentment.

His fingers stopped at a leather-bound book and he smiled. Somehow, he had managed to find the book he sought. Pulling it out of the shelf with gentle ease, he held it to his bosom as he returned to Kyle.

Kyle had not moved from his position.

Stan sat back down and placed the book near Kyle.

Blinking a few times, Kyle looked down at the book. “What is this?”

“A collection of stories, o great one.” He grinned and opened the cover.

Kyle snickered softly.

With a gentle touch, Stan looked through the pages. “If I remember correctly, it should be right… Here!” His smile widened considerably. “When I was a child, my mother would read me this story.” His smile faltered for a second, but then he looked to Kyle. “Care to listen?”

Placing the parchment down and pushing it away, he looked to Stan with amazement. “Of course.” Kyle knew little of Stan’s past, as well as his personal life, and hoped this story would enlighten him. He wanted to know of the experiences that formed the man that sat before him now, the man that he could not turn away from.

Stan beamed and turned to the book. The tale told of a child, one alone, who gained the power to run through the sky. He spent his days dancing in the clouds and singing with the flowers.

Kyle smiled, for the tale rang sweet. Hearing the joy in Stan’s voice as he read filled his chest with warmth and he felt his tension ease. He rested his face in his hands, closed his eyes, and listened to the melodious tale; the rise and fall of Stan’s tone, and the hints of drama in his narration.

When the tale ended, Kyle grinned at Stan. “That was wonderful. I thank you for reading it.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve heard it. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

They smiled at each other, warm and kindly.

With his head clear, Kyle returned to his readings.

Stan snickered and shook his head. In a short amount of time, Kyle had adopted the role of the king with ease. He put his complete attention on the tasks he had at hand, never wavering until it saw its end. Though the transition proved to be wearisome, Kyle put his full strength into his endeavors.

By the time night fell, a single candle at the table illuminated the large area.

“Kyle,” Stan’s voice grew thick with softness, “I believe that’s enough for now.”

“I need to finish—”

“You can continue tomorrow. You have been reading and writing all day. It’s time to rest.”

Kyle released an exhausted sigh. “Words make little sense, and my thoughts are incoherent.” He looked at Stan, the faintest ghost of a smile at his lips. “Thank you for sitting through this these past few days with me.” He gathered pages upon pages, stored them in a book, and stood, pressing a hand to his eyes.

Stan stood, attentive to Kyle. “Are you okay?”

“This fatigue, it is incredible. I can hardly remain on my feet.”

Swiftly, Stan spun on his heels, standing at Kyle’s left, and held out his arm. “I’m here to—” He recalled his earlier outburst, his ears burning, “aid you.”

Kyle scoffed. “I am perfectly capable of walking, Stan, but I thank you regardless.”

“You just said you can hardly stand.” Stan’s brows furrowed, pouting slightly.

“Yes, well, I am able now.” To provide emphasis, Kyle headed towards the entering staircase. He was thankful for the low light, for he felt his face heating up. He was not a weak and feeble child that needed to be cared for, especially not by Stan, though the thought proved tempting.

Stan blew out the candle then hurried after Kyle, remaining as close to him as possible. The task proved difficult in the low light, for even he found himself stumbling in the slightest. As they drew closer to the staircase, light slowly flooded in. Although Kyle appeared to be well, Stan remained attentive. He felt the strong need to care for and protect Kyle.

Since he arrived at the palace, Stan decided to always be at Kyle’s side and support him, be it physically or in any other sense of the phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, fellas! Like I said in The Kingdom, it's getting hard to find time to write with work, and especially now that school has started. My genius self has five classes, nineteen units, and service learning to deal with this semester. Because of this, the upload schedule for Erendriel is going to be more sporadic and to be determined. I'm really sorry and hope you guys have patience with me. (I'm literally Kyle in this chapter lol)
> 
> Oh, one other thing: if in the off-chance someone makes any fanart or content related to the fic, please let me know! You're all so special to me for reading this, and although I love you all, I will love you forever x 2 if you make stuff, haha!
> 
> Molly, a buddy of mine, [made this super amazing edit](https://www.instagram.com/p/CE_Bf0oJNd4/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) several months ago, and it makes me uwu to this day. It's so beautiful!!! Her new Instagram user is @ elytstfcs. Check her out!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and take care uwu


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